


The Garden of Us

by honeypressed



Series: i have seen the beginning and end of the stars (and still, we are) [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Blood and Injury, Changing seasons, Childhood Friends, Chronic Pain, Courting Rituals, Death, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pet Names, Pining, Romeo and Juliet References, Strangers to Lovers, Tenderness, War, Weddings, Yearning, learning to love, literally jeongin builds a garden for seungmin because he loves min so much, so much imagery just all of it, that is the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypressed/pseuds/honeypressed
Summary: For Yang Jeongin, it comes to a surprise for him when the crown prince arranges for him to marry the son of his clan's detested enemy, Kim Seungmin. Sure, their clans had been fighting about the piece of land between their territories for long enough that the Palaces felt the need to step in, and he too felt that the fighting had been going on for too long -But he did not expect to come to love Kim Seungmin.(look at what our love has made, jeongin murmurs, a year after they had wed,look at the proof of our love.the garden blooms around them.)
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, side Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: i have seen the beginning and end of the stars (and still, we are) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899280
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62
Collections: A thousand memories and a million more to come





	The Garden of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SKZMemories](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SKZMemories) collection. 



> hello everyone!! yes i havent posted anything in a while [sweats] but please accept this jeongmin <3 i have been working on this through a difficult period of my life >< i hope that you enjoy this!!
> 
> warnings: implied sexual content, non-graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, mentions of death + graves 
> 
> as always, i hope everyone is good, and please enjoy the fic ^^

_you told me to dream of the stars and i_

_dreamed of you_

* * *

Today, the sky is blue, like the flowers of the butterfly pea plant; its colour is almost crystalline, and it should have conferred peace upon those who looked at it. Yet, once again, as routine as the rise of the sun and the gathering of the clouds, the loud clashes of sword on sword and feet against hard-packed earth echo through the lands, startling flocks of birds out of their nests and commoners from their sleep.

“Fighting reported just north of the forests, young master,” A guard says to a young man, the both of them striding from the eastern side of a stately compound to the western end. The young man is still tying the cord to secure his outer robes, indicating that he has just started his day.

“Again? Was there not a fight there just a few days ago?”

“It might have been the same men, young master. The fights are becoming a daily occurrence now… is there not anything the lord will do about it?”

The young man sighs. “My father insists that those lands beyond the forest are ours, not the Yeonan Kims. He will not stop these fightings until that land is proclaimed as ours.”

“Is what the lord believes true?”

“I know not of such things. There are no records nor papers to show who that land belongs to. I would like to leave the land alone, for it is near the forest and there are bound to be some small gods there, alas…”

“But the Yeonan Kims refuse to give up their right to the land as well?”

“Both sides are being equally irritable and nonsensical,” The young man says, coming to a stop in front of the messenger rooms, the guard halting beside him as well. “And yet there is nothing I can do about it, for I am not the head of the clan.”

Now, they both step into the messenger rooms, and the messengers bow at the sight of the young man as the pair walk deeper into the room. It is still cold, as the day has barely started and winter is fast settling in; the young man looks around the room.

“Come now, what news? The guard has told me that there are fightings north of the forest among our men and theirs.”

“Yes, young master,” One of the messengers replies, coming forward. “I was the one who brought the news. It was between the lower-ranked members of the clan. They would not tell of how the fight started, merely that the land belongs to us and not the Yeonan Kims.”

“We are all such fools,” The young man murmurs. “Any other news?”

“From the Palaces, young master,” The head messenger says, stepping up. “It was delivered just a few moments ago, when the compound doors were opened. It is from the _wangseja’s_ offices himself, addressed to the head of the clan. Should I deliver it to the lord?”

“I will have it,” The young man says, beckoning. “I know my father — he will not read the letters, too consumed in raging over that no-man’s land. Have a rest, those of you that have worked this morning. I will have the cook send over sweets for your service. This, I will deliver to my father.”

“Thank you, young master,” The messengers say, bowing, and he and the guard leave.

“I must return to my post,” The guard says, and bows as well. “Have a good day, young master.”

“As to you,” The young man says, inclining his head.

As the guard leaves, the young man starts walking towards the eastern compounds again, but this time slower and with more thought. The scroll is most certainly from the _wangseja’s_ offices, with the bright red seal indicating so. But what would the _wangseja_ want from them?

Deciding that he might as well open the scroll and read it now, he breaks the seal and skims over the contents of the scroll rapidly. A sense of both hysteria and relief rises up in him as he finishes reading through it, and he has to take a few moments for himself outside his father’s study, breathing in deeply.

He does not let himself think about the contents of the scroll for any longer — he will relay the news to his father first **.** Knocking gently on the door, he waits for the occupant to give permission to enter before he lets himself in.

His father’s study is dark, as usual. The windows are always blocked of light, and the lanterns are dulled from frequent use and infrequent cleaning. He dislikes staying in his father’s study.

“The _wangseja_ will be visiting us in the next week, father,” The young man says. His deep blue robes sweep against the wood of the floor as he approaches a figure sitting in front of a low table whose hands are clasped together fretfully. He bows and sets a scroll on the table, the seal already broken. “This is the message from the Palaces, I think you would like to have a look at it.” Without waiting for a word, the young man stands up again and makes to leave the room.

“Wait - Jeongin.”

“... Yes, father?”

“I know you do not agree with the fighting, but there is not much we can do about it. The land is _ours_ , it is not for the Yeonan Kims,” The man bites out, bitterness sudden but ripe with time. “Those _munban_ think they are so good at their books, their laws and understanding…”

“You already know what I feel about the pointless fighting about the wild lands,” The young man - Jeongin - says flatly, “so I do not feel the need to reiterate my thoughts. If you will excuse me, father, I shall be returning to the training grounds before the sun sets.”

“Dismissed,” His father says, almost lost and confused in how he gives the permission, and Jeongin holds back a sigh. He steps out of the rooms and closes the door behind him with a soft slide and looks up at the sky. Autumn is fast fading, and already he can feel the winter chill seeping into the compounds, under the doors and into their beds. He cannot imagine how much worse it must be for the commoners, and reminds himself to once again check on the grain stores for the winter.

“Young master, are you going to the training grounds again?” One of the servants asks as he walks by Jeongin.

“I was planning to. Is there something that has happened?”

“Oh — no, nothing has happened. It is just that the winter chill has started, and it would not be wise of the young master to head out in such attire lest he risk falling ill.”

“Thank you,” Jeongin says warmly, “I will change into something more appropriate before leaving. Tell head servant Lee that it is time you should have your winter garb out, and make sure it is not cold before proceeding with your chores.”

“As you wish, young master.”

To be sure, the winter is setting in; the tree branches are bare and the wind bitter. Still, the arguments do not stop, extended members of the clan remain clashing with each other, and the threat of a harsh winter and a possible attack by the _wokou_ loom over all of them. It is _ridiculous_ to Jeongin that his father should be so concerned about the lands in between the north and south provinces and who should take control of those lands when there are more pressing matters at hand.

Taking a deep breath of air to settle himself, Jeongin steps out into the sands of the training grounds and smiles as he walks to his mentor, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. For now, he will focus on training; he will deal with his father later.

As it turns out, it takes the whole week for Jeongin to even get it through his father that the _wangseja_ is actually stepping into their business because the Palaces have had enough of their fights. He spends a good day fussing about the compounds before the _wangseja_ arrives because his father has shut himself up in his study, and even though he has not taken over as clan head yet, it feels as though he already has with how childishly his father acts sometimes.

The _wangseja_ had asked the clan heads and their immediate family to meet in Jeongju, which meant that Jeongin and his family had to travel up north for the day.

“It has not broken dawn yet,” Jeongin’s younger sister, Suyun, remarks. “This winter seems as if it will be particularly harsh.”

“Then we must hope that the meeting today with the _wangseja_ will contribute towards resolving most part of the conflict,” Jeongin says tersely, watching the servants prepare the carriage with the aid of some lanterns.

“It will be solved,” Suyun declares, and Jeongin knows that she too, has read the letter. It seems as though their elders never read anything the Palaces send them; it must be why the _wangseja_ himself had decided to take a trip personally. “ _Oraboni_ , you know what the _wangseja_ is planning, surely you are prepared for the outcome of the meeting?”

“Suyun,” Jeongin murmurs, and the first light of dawn starts to break through as the carriage is announced prepared and they are made to board it, “I know nothing of what will happen in the meeting — but if the contents of the letter speak true, we will have to follow through with the instructions.”

_Beodeul Yang_ , the letter had read, and Jeongin sees it perfectly formed in his mind’s eye, unfettered by the bump of the carriage, _before the arrival of the New Year, you will be united with those that you have not been at peace with for years. The land which your clans have fought over so bitterly will belong to new, joined hands._

Jeongin gazes out the carriage windows in lieu of residing with his thoughts. Really, there is nothing he can do about it. If the _wangseja_ says, he must do — but how could the _wangseja_ know about him and the eldest son of the Yeonan Kims? That they had spent a childhood together?

* * *

As he had expected, the two clans can barely stand the sight of each other when they meet at the royal accommodations in Jeongja. It is past Jeongin to remember exactly _why_ their clans hate each other thus so — it was not just that they were arguing over who owned the lands, but rather an unsolved grudge from the generations prior to theirs.

The _wangseja_ had arrived prior to them, and for good reason.

Even the sight of each other was abhorrent to the leaders of each clan, and it takes both Jeongin and Suyun whispering to their father furiously to keep his temper in check before everyone is able to sit at the tables and focus on the _wangseja_ instead.

“This is not the time to be fighting,” The _wangseja_ says, almost testily. “The palace has heard of your fights for what must be weeks now. Word is already spreading amongst the back alleys of the weakness of the south — give it any more time and we will have enemies from the sea attacking us when we are at our weakest.”

“Then give us the lands, Your Highness,” One of the lower clan members of the Yeonan Kims says bluntly, and for their cheek the _wangseja_ levels a cool gaze against them.

“It is not my place to dictate over which lands you should and should not have,” The _wangseja_ says, firm and determined in his words. “If I did, every clan of the whole country will have me decide over their petty land disputes. No — I am only stepping in this time because it is crucial both of your clans work together to protect Jeolla-do. Your resources are better spent protecting the country than up in arms against each other. Do you understand this now?”

There is a low, ringing murmur of agreement throughout the room, but it is still tense. The question remains unanswered; _who will now have rightful claim to the lands beyond the forest?_ Jeongin looks up then, directly at the _wangseja_ , and somehow he knows what the _wangseja_ will say. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who had bothered to read the letter the palaces sent them.

"The winter has set in difficult this year, and your resources are more in want of the commoners in your province than over your fruitless disputes. Let your arguments cease, and your grudges be buried. I am ordering both of your clans to have your immediate heirs wed each other, and have your clans become joined. The land will belong jointly to your clans from here on.”

There is nothing but hardness in the way the _wangseja_ says this, lips pressed together; but there is an amused light in his eyes. Jeongin has to repress a smile on his own mouth; of course, the _wangseja_ should order for a marriage. After all, the whole country knows of the beautiful scholar who had caught the _wangseja’s_ eye, and there is much bated breath on when their betrothal should be.

Commotion breaks out in panicked, quiet whispers around the room, everyone still mindful of the _wangseja’s_ presence, and it is Jeongin’s father who speaks up.

“ _Seja-jeoha,_ ” Jeongin’s father starts with hurried respect, “I - indeed, we - dare not question your decision, but.. if I may be so impudent to ask what caused Your Royal Highness to come to this conclusion?”

“The south will be fortified if both of your clans as the largest clans in this part of the country are united, and marriage is most convenient, is it not? There will be no bloodshed, nor loss to either of your lands. Furthermore, I am informed that the immediate heirs to each clan are…” The _wangseja_ trails off slightly to land his gaze on Jeongin, then the first son of the Yeonan Kims, “... quite well-disposed to each other.”

There is no chance for anyone to parse out what the _wangseja_ could possibly mean by his words, for he turns to his _daejang_ and murmurs a few words to him, presumably instructions. Everyone is more concerned with the fact the feuding enemies will be made into allies with a marriage of the immediate heirs —

"Kim Seungmin, and Yang Jeongin, I presume?" The _wangseja_ says, looking up from where he was talking with his _daejang_.

"Your Highness," The eldest son of the Yeonan Kims says, stepping up and bowing.

"At your service," Jeongin adds, coming forward to bow as well.

“Come with me for a moment, the both of you.”

They follow the _wangseja_ into a connecting room, one that seems to be a dressing room. Here, the _wangseja_ gestures for them to sit down as well before he speaks.

“I know I have arranged for your marriage,” The _wangseja_ begins, “but I would not wish you to see it as forced. It is possible to sign a treaty, though the peace it brings may be shorter-lived than a marriage.”

“It is our duty as immediate heirs, is it not, Your Highness?” Seungmin says, glancing at the _wangseja_.

“Born into your duty you are, but I would not force you into your duty when there are other available options. It is merely to my… knowledge that the both of you have spent your childhoods together,” The _wangseja_ says, smiling at both of them in turn. “If not amiable, then certainly you should be well-disposed towards each other. I do not think it will be difficult for good feelings to bloom between you.”

“You certainly know a lot, Your Highness,” Jeongin says, returning the smile politely. “It is true that we have spent our childhood together before our parents got involved. It would be an excellent way for our clans to join hands and bestow peace… if Kim-ssi agrees?” 

“It would be,” Seungmin says, nodding his head. “I have no objection to marrying Yang-ssi, if that is what Your Highness is concerned about.”

“Neither am I objected,” Jeongin adds. “In my view, it is perhaps only my family that will be hard to win over for this marriage, but if Your Highness decrees it, then it shall be done.”

“Then I take it that the both of you are happy to be married?”

“Yes,” Seungmin says, just turning to Jeongin a little, smiling.

“Yes,” Jeongin says as well, and he is a little dazzled by how Seungmin smiles.

The _wangseja_ leaves after a few more words of when they should be wed by, and that he will deal with the outrage of their clans since it is not of their volition to be wed. In the few moments that they are alone, they only exchange a small smile — but there is so much in the little smile.

_It is still the same smile from he was a child_ , Jeongin thinks faintly to himself.

(those long-buried feelings from when they were children resurface. he had always attributed these feelings to being a child, and simple admiration for how well seungmin read his books, but now, as he has these few seconds of kim seungmin, he begins to think those feelings were not of mere admiration.)

The door opens — Jeongin extends a hand to help Seungmin down the steps from the room — and they part ways, Seungmin back to the north and Jeongin back to the south. But they will not be parted from each other much longer. Even if they were brought together because of a need that has nothing to do with love, they will find it here.

(in their hands that are to be cupped together, they will learn that love can be found from nothing.)

* * *

Kim Seungmin is almost exactly how Jeongin remembers him from when they were children and not yet subject to their clan’s mutterings and dramas. He still retains the brightness in his eyes and the curl of his lips when he smiles; but more than that, he has become an adult. He walks with grace and holds his shoulders high; he meets everyone’s gaze straight to the eyes and when he talks, his voice lilts like a lute in the mist of a gentle spring morning.

_He has become beautiful_ , Suyun whispers in his ear when Kim Seungmin and his clan approaches, clad in robes of blue a few shades lighter than their dark. _Oraboni, do you not think him beautiful?_

Last time when they were meeting the _wangseja_ , Jeongin had not been able to observe Kim Seungmin closely, only knew that his hair was done up and that there was the faint scent of magnolias. Now, as the servants usher the Yeonan Kims into the drawing room and fragrant jasmine tea is served, Jeongin allows himself to finally look at who is to be his husband.

Long oak hair, just about held back by a pearl clasp, spills over robes of gentle blue silk, typical of the dye sold by merchants in the north. The faint scent of honey and citrus underneath the hot jasmine, and when Kim Seungmin shifts or looks up, the fragrance moves along with him. A mouth as pink as the spring flowers, and eyes as dark as the coals stoking the fires; Jeongin’s mouth goes dry, and he forgets how to speak momentarily.

_Yes, I think him most beautiful_ , Jeongin wants to reply to Suyun, but the words are stoppered in his throat like he has swallowed flowered honey.

“Let us not waste time,” Kim Seungmin starts, hands cupping the warm tea. “We are here to talk about the wedding, and we shall commence from now. We have both agreed to marry, is that not right, my lord?”

“Yes,” Jeongin says, trying to keep his voice steady; this is the first time coming in years that Kim Seungmin has addressed him directly.

“Then there is no issue in that aspect. My requests for the wedding is that it should be kept simple.”

“Simple?” Jeongin’s father repeats, almost testily.

"The winter is too harsh, my lord. I do not think it should be a stretch that our wedding be modest and in haste, rather than for ceremony," Kim Seungmin says evenly despite the fact that Jeongin’s father is glaring at him. “Better for the money to go to the province, yes?” He shifts a little in his seat and clutches his hands around the cup of tea more tightly.

_His face is flushed from cold._ "I have no objection," Jeongin replies, and glances at his father sharply. "I am sure our clan will agree to a simple ceremony, is that not correct, father? After all, we have to be wed before _seollal_."

“What then about living arrangements?” Suyun asks, almost teasing in her question.

“If my lord has no objections, I should like to move in here with my _dongsaengs_ ,” Seungmin says, patently ignoring how his father slides him a sharp look from his side. “Your compounds here are closer to the seas, and if we plan for a defence against invasions from the sea it will be easier from this vantage.”

“I will have the rooms next to mine cleaned for you, and should you wish your siblings to join you, they would be welcome to stay in the northern compounds. Perhaps you would like to see these rooms before you come to stay?” Jeongin asks, glancing out the window. The snow is continuing to fall.

“Thank you, my lord. I am sure those rooms are more than enough for our use, but it is far too cold now to think of leaving the fire,” Seungmin returns, and Jeongin just notices that his knuckles are red with cold. “Would it be alright if we returned on another day to look at the rooms?”

“You will have to return to prepare for the ceremonies and its arrangements, so all will be open to you,” Jeongin says, and without his control his eyes sweep down worriedly from Kim Seungmin’s red knuckles to his flushed cheeks.

“Thank you,” Kim Seungmin says, his smile blooming like peonies in the middle of winter.

Jeongin is sure his father raises some sort of other question about the wedding, but he does not really hear it. Instead, he turns a little in his seat and beckons a servant to come forward.

"Young master?" The servant murmurs in an undertone.

"Stoke the fires," Jeongin returns quietly, "keep my betrothed warm. It has been a cold journey."

"As you wish, young master."

The flush on Kim Seungmin's cheeks never quite fade. It is to be sure that he no longer feels the cold with the warmth of the fire and the under-floor heating, but the redness remains simply because his betrothed comes up to him and asks for reassurance that he is not too cold when the discussion is adjourned and there a few moments of rest before they have to leave.

"You are not too cold?" Yang Jeongin asks, coming to a stop a respectable few feet away from him. "It has been a long journey, and an even longer discussion. May I offer you something warm to have before you take your leave?"

"I am no longer cold," Seungmin replies, chancing a glance at his betrothed and finding that a smile is being directed in his way, “but thank you for your hospitality, my lord. I should take my leave soon, for the sun sets so very rapidly in these cold months."

"Are you perhaps still wary of the dark, as when we were children?" Jeongin asks, chancing the question, and is delighted when Seungmin looks up in pleasant surprise.

"Oh! I did not think that you deigned to remember. Wary would be what I am now; terrified would have been a better choice for when we were children.”

“Ah — then do you still suffer from the pains in your back? I remember how difficult it was for you then.”

“Why, it seems like we had not separated for years at all,” Seungmin remarks, laughing a little. “You remember much about me, my lord. Yes, I still suffer from the pains, but it is much more manageable now, you need not worry about me.”

“That is good to hear,” Jeongin says, smiling, and he catches Seungmin’s lips quirking up just a smidge more than it already was. “Are you sure I cannot press something warm upon you before you leave?”

“It is no matter, my lord — I shall leave with my father and our guards in a matter of moments, and the journey is to be no more than an hour."

For a moment, it looks as though Yang Jeongin wants to press the safety of his clan's own guards on him, but then he steps closer, takes his hands in his own.

"Then I should wish that you have a safe journey, mine own."

Seungmin can feel his heart stutter with the simple sentence; no one has ever directed such words at him, and despite its simplicity it is sweet in nature.

"I expect I should be visiting more often, my lord,” Seungmin starts, and the smile widens across his face, inconsequential of decorum. “Should I hope that you will gift me more of such sweet words for every visit?"

"Ah, is this what you consider sweet? You should be in want of even sweeter words then, for every time that you come and visit."

"I look forward to it, my lord," Seungmin murmurs. His hands that were once cold are warming in Jeongin's hold.

"And when we are wed, this will be another home for you to return to," Jeongin adds, in an almost reverent tone. Outside the rooms, the carriage is being drawn and the guards assembling; Seungmin can see nor hear any of this, bar for the man in front of him that is holding his hands. "Another home that perhaps you will be enticed to stay for a little longer than our current arrangements."

"My lord," Seungmin returns, pressing his palms against Jeongin's once more before he has to take his leave, "I never do anything I do not want to." The words of _I came here knowing this must be where I stay forever_ is something he had accepted when he said them to the _wangseja_ a week ago, but these thoughts are tinted sweet by the way Jeongin smiles at him and escorts him to the carriage.

"Safe journey home, mine own," Jeongin says, halting right outside the entrance to the carriage. He lets go of Seungmin's hand then, sure that Seungmin will take his leave; Seungmin does not let go of his.

"If I may be so direct," Seungmin starts, and the red flush has returned to his cheeks, "would you write to me, my lord?"

Jeongin startles a little at that. "You... you want me to write letters to you?"

"Very much so."

"Is there any reason why my betrothed wants a letter from me, when he could very much see me as often as he pleases?"

"For keepsakes," Seungmin answers, and the little laughter he gives sounds like the interlude of summer. "And I am afraid that I must take my leave now, so if you will excuse me."

"I will write to you, mine own. Travel safely, and I will send a letter right after your carriage."

"Until next time, my betrothed," Seungmin murmurs, and there is the tiniest smile at the corner of his lips.

It is the first time Seungmin has addressed him as anything close to an endearment. To be sure, they have only just been betrothed for a week and it has been a long time since their childhood when they played together, but Jeongin already harbours much affection for him. The years have done no part to dull the fondness he held for the other since their childhoods, and it returns in full fold for him as an adult. Now, as the Yeonan Kim's carriage departs, he is left with just the faint scents citrus and honey that already he is beginning to associate with his betrothed.

As much as Jeongin would like to think about what these feelings mean, there is still much to do after the Yeonan Kims leave. His father is fretting about the ceremony and where it should be held, and some of his relatives are loudly complaining about how the ceremony was important, that it should not be rushed lest they anger the gods. Jeongin steels himself to deal with all these complaints, and it is not until after the evening _sura_ that Jeongin has some peace and quiet to himself.

The sun has long set, as it does in winter, and Jeongin gazes out into the darkness, his own reflection muddled by the glow of the moon off the gently falling snow.

“Is this why you have always encouraged me to get to know their son?” Jeongin murmurs softly as his matron helps him take off his outer robes. The furs and linen he had worn for both formality as well as warmth have left his skin slightly tender, and he is once again grateful for the thin night clothes made of silk. It smooths over his skin like river waters; in an entirely different way, it reminds him of Kim Seungmin's voice.

"Perhaps," His matron replies, voice steady and reassuring like it always has been since he was a child. "Better to know than to ignore. I would have never imagined that you would be married as such, if I may say my piece, young master."

"Certainly not me either," Jeongin says, almost laughing. "I can just about remember him from when we played together as children, but I have not seen him in years. His hair is a most lovely shade of oak, is it not?"

His matron smiles, almost teasing. "Have you been looking at his hair, young master?"

Jeongin casts an eye over the blue robes he had been wearing, two shades darker than Kim Seungmin's. "How could I not," He says, voice unexpectedly gentle. "How could I not look at a summer bird that flew right into the middle of our winter?"

//

“Young master, you have been staring at these combs for the past few minutes,” Jeongin’s matron says, coming to stand beside him. “Are they spoiled, or not to your liking?”

“No, no, none of that,” Jeongin replies distractedly. “I was simply wondering which one my betrothed would like best.”

“Between the pearls and the flowers, young master?”

“Yes, yes — my betrothed carries the scents of flowers with him, but I saw his hair held back with a pearl clasp when he visited us yesterday. Would he prefer a comb embedded with pearls then?”

His matron barely holds back a smile. “I am sure he will like whatever you send him, young master. Are these to be considered courting gifts?”

“I think these flowers would be beautiful in his hair,” Jeongin murmurs to himself, thumbing over the pale blue flowers on one of the combs before realising what his matron just said. “Ah! I – I suppose they could be considered courting gifts. I know we are already engaged to be married, but it would not hurt to send him a few gifts…”

“You are so very tender in the way you love,” His matron remarks. “I shall prepare the box for your gift and call for a messenger so your letter will arrive at the Yeonan Kims by this evening.”

“Thank you,” Jeongin says, a little flustered by how obvious he is being.

As his matron bustles away, laughing under her breath, Jeongin returns to the combs and his letter that he has already written, sealed and stamped. The combs are lacquered wood — one is dotted with pearls and small jades, exquisite and sparkling under the lights; the other has hand-crafted flowers embedded against the wood, pale blue and violet blossoms that would match Seungmin’s robes flawlessly.

Finally deciding that he thinks Seungmin would like the flowers, he picks the comb up and reaches for his letter, just in time for his matron to return with a small jewellery box, simple in that it is wood with carvings edging it, but stately in the quality and the finish of the wood, and the gold clasps that holds it closed.

“These were made in the event should you have wanted to court someone,” His matron begins to explain, “but it was never thought of until today.”

“It is beautiful,” Jeongin tells her, and cleans the box with a cloth before placing both the comb and the letter inside and clasping it shut once more.

“Shall I bring it to the messenger?”

“No — let me. It is already past dark, and it is better for you to stay here, in the warmth.”

They have a little back-and-forth for a moment before Jeongin wins his way, and he leaves his rooms to find the messenger in the west compounds. It is not late enough that it is time for evening _sura_ , but already the sky is as dark as midnight and the lights around the compound cast orange, dewy glows on the snow.

“To Kim Seungmin of the Yeonan Kims,” Jeongin tells the messenger, who is saddling up his horse. “Tomorrow you will have your morning off for your work tonight. Ride safely on the roads.”

“Yes, young master,” The messenger says, bowing, and receives the box carefully, putting it away in his bag. “I have completed many trips in the dark winter before, it is of no worry. Thank you, and good night, young master.”

“Safe journey,” Jeongin utters, and stands back to watch the messenger lead his horse out of the stables and into the darkness of the night.

_It is too fast_ , Jeongin thinks, _it is too fast in how I have accrued affection for Seungmin when it has been but a week since we were betrothed. Years have passed since our childhood_ — _how is it possible that the tenderness I once felt for him when I was young has been retained in my heart to this day?_

But like another puzzle piece is being fit into his life, the piece that is Kim Seungmin grows in his heart; more strongly than ever, more than when they were children, more surely than anything else he knows — Jeongin feels these emotions that Kim Seungmin caused, both from when they were children and now when they are slightly more grown — and he is sure that they have been brought together not just because of their duty.

It is far too early to talk of love, to give his thanks to the gods for bringing them together, to think of their relationship as more than amicable acquaintances with a shared childhood who now have to marry — but his thoughts betray his logic.

_I hope it will be soon that this becomes your home… that I will be part of your home_.

* * *

Already, it is the third time that the Yeonan Kims are visiting them, a whole week after their previous visit. This time, they are here for the fitting of the robes and to discuss the details of the ceremony, and that takes up most of the day. Jeongin is unable to say much to his betrothed for how busy they are, but the hours of the day pass by — and they finally have some time to themselves after the afternoon _sura_.

“How have you been?” Jeongin asks, not able to help himself as soon as they are left alone by the servants and their families have left to look at the rooms.

“I have been well, my lord,” Seungmin replies, smiling. “It has gotten so much colder, so you must excuse my fidgeting.”

“Shall I ask for the fire to be stoked?”

“No — this is perfect. Thank you, my lord. I will be warm soon, especially with you here.”

“Now look at who has sweet words on their mouth,” Jeongin says, laughing a little.

“How could I not learn when I had letters spelling out such lovely things for me?” Seungmin returns, and even as he warms, the redness of his cheeks does not dissipate. “And — I must thank you for the comb, my betrothed. It is exquisite, I did not expect to receive anything at all.”

“It was nothing at all,” Jeongin replies, almost haste in how fast he says it. “I could only hope that it was to your liking. You — at the very least, you deserve beautiful things. If there was more time… I would have liked to send you more gifts.”

Instead of saying anything, Seungmin comes closer, takes Jeongin’s hands in his and bows his head. There is a question poised on Jeongin’s lips, to ask what he is doing — but then he sees it.

The comb of lacquered wood and blue flowers is delicately edged into Seungmin’s hair, crowning where it is tied up, melding perfectly into the oak that is his hair.

“Do you understand, my betrothed?” Seungmin murmurs, now looking up at Jeongin. “That which you have gifted me — it is all precious to me, and I will treasure it with my heart. It matters not whether you have given me one, or many, nor that there is not much time before we wed… after all, we are to have many days together from now on.”

“Then you would not be opposed if I still gave you gifts even after we were wed?” Jeongin asks, still gently holding Seungmin’s hands. Like this, he can feel the coldness of Seungmin’s hands, but even that is warming as they stand together like this, in a small room off from where they were dining, tender like the gently falling snow outside the window.

“How could I be opposed to such a sweet gesture?” Seungmin says, and then steps away before they can be caught flouting social decorum.

“Is that a _haegeum_?” Seungmin asks as he approaches the corner of the room where some instruments were laid out.

“It is. Suyun used to play the _haegeum_ , but she is more interested in the blade lately, so it has not been used in a while. Do you play the _haegeum_ , my betrothed?”

“I do,” Seungmin replies, and looks between the _haegeum_ and Jeongin. “Would you… would you like to hear a little today? I have no music sheets with me, and I did not think to memorise any… but if you want to, I would be glad to oblige.”

“I would love to hear you play the _haegeum_ ,” Jeongin says, and feels as though his heart is beating in his throat and not his chest.

“Do not expect too much,” Seungmin says, nervousness colouring his tone slightly.

Slowly, Seungmin settles down and spreads his robes around where he is kneeled; he gently positions the _haegeum_ upright, just barely leaning against his knee. His posture is straight, and his arms form a lovely line like the slope of a mountain as he places the bow on the strings and closes his eyes.

“Just — a simple melody,” Seungmin murmurs.

Jeongin wants to nod, say yes, but then Seungmin’s bow quivers against the strings, and he begins to play. The sounds of the _haegeum_ are not unfamiliar to Jeongin; after all, his younger sister Suyun used to play it plenty, and he knows the sounds of the _haegeum_ well.

But — Seungmin plays it so beautifully; or perhaps he is simply biased in favour of this man that he is about to marry. Each note of the _haegeum_ that is already familiar to Jeongin’s ear sounds even more haunting under Seungmin’s fingers, and the short melody echoes throughout the room, dissipating through the walls and out into the winter afternoon. As Seungmin works his way through the song, the refrain etches itself into Jeongin’s heart and he is soon sure that he will only think of Seungmin when he hears this song in the future.

All too soon, the melody draws to a close, and Seungmin relaxes his posture, takes his bow off the strings. Almost hesitantly, he looks over to where Jeongin is sitting in front of him, the unasked question ready to fall from his lips.

“You play so wonderfully,” Jeongin says, and he cannot himself, or these words that spill from his mouth. “I cannot help but long of when you play longer songs, mine own, when you play such a short piece in such a lovely manner.” His affections overflow.

“Thank you,” Seungmin murmurs, setting the bow down next to him, and he smiles once more, tinged pink. “I will bring my music sheets with me when I come here to live. It will not be long, my lord.” There is a promise in his voice when he says this, and it feels as though Seungmin returns these affections in as much volume as he does.

“I will long for those days then, mine own,” Jeongin says, and it is in a voice so low that it is for their ears only. “For days of your music… a pleasant dream it seems to be.”

“Your dreams will only become sweeter from here on,” Seungmin says, and even though there is some distance between them, it feels as though he has drawn them close and is holding him. “The dreams that you long of will soon become a reality, and they will be memories for you to hold in your hands.”

“Then I hope that my dreams continue,” Jeongin replies, and there is more that he still wants to say. That he hopes that this sweetness lasts; that he hopes only for happiness in the future; that these tender affections have already spilled out of the cave of his chest. Yet, his words stop there.

“Young master Yang, young master Kim,” A servant says, bowing as he walks in. “It is time for the young master Kim to depart home. The day does not last long, and your father wishes to start the road home before the sun sets.”

“Must you go?” Jeongin asks, a few minutes later as they stand outside the carriage. This exact scene has happened before, and every time that Seungmin has to depart, it becomes more and more difficult as the affections in his heart grow and grow.

“You cannot have already missed me when I have not yet left,” Seungmin teases, but he does not move towards the carriage either. “It will not be long before we see each other again, my betrothed — and that is the day we will wed.”

_But I have missed you from the day our childhoods ended_ , Jeongin wants to say, but these words are not to be said when they are on the edges of a temporary departure.

“Then I will look forward to seeing you in red, mine own,” Jeongin says instead, once again unable to help the smile that blooms at the edges of his mouth.

Seungmin’s cheeks are tinged pink again — but Jeongin thinks it is not just from the cold. This time, he bids Seungmin goodbye once more, and presses a kiss to Seungmin’s knuckles before helping him up into the carriage.

“The next time you see me, we will be wed,” Seungmin murmurs, as if these words are only for Jeongin’s to know.

“Until then, my betrothed,” Jeongin says quietly, and it is almost unbearable to look at Seungmin then, who is pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, who is the epitome of overflowing affection, who is the one that has slotted back into the space of Jeongin’s heart that was made in his shape years ago.

The carriage departs back for the north — for the last time in a long while.

Jeongin smiles at the leaving carriage, and thinks of what had come in the letter just yesterday. It was from Seungmin, addressed directly to him, just as the past two letters had been. Inside, there was not just a letter in Seungmin’s neat lettering; there was also a pressed magnolia.

Did the magnolias smell of Seungmin, or did Seungmin smell of the magnolias?

It did not matter to Jeongin. He had kept the pressed flower between the pages of his most loved book, and the letter went into a small box along with the other letters. He is sure that the box would soon smell like of the flowers themselves, and this will have to tide him over until their wedding.

* * *

Seungmin had promised that it would not be long before they were to be wed. A month, in all the senses, was not a long time — especially for a wedding to be planned and held, but Jeongin had never felt a month to be longer. Even with the ever-shortening days as the country plunged into winter and the grounds were blanketed with snow, the hours felt unbelievably long to him.

“You are pining, _oraboni_ ,” Suyun says in a tone that Jeongin recognises to be teasing. “I had forgotten how much you liked the young master Kim when we were children. Did these feelings remain unchanged?”

“When you fall in love,” Jeongin begins, not realising he has already fallen into Suyun’s trap, “you will understand how I feel.”

“So you _are_ in love, _oraboni_!” Suyun cries, almost triumphant. She laughs when Jeongin scowls at her, but this news is not new.

Everyone in the clan knows that their young master, due to ascend as clan head soon, is in love with the first son of the Yeonan Kims, and they are due to wed under the _wangseja’s_ decree before _seollal_. Many of the clan still harboured a grudge against the Yeonan Kims, but a royal decree was a royal decree, so they had no choice but to accept that the clans were being united.

The days pass slowly like the fall of the snow, and then like Jeongin has just opened his eyes at the height of the sun, he is standing opposite Seungmin, the winter wind buffering against them. Weddings are always lengthy affairs, but as he stands here, holding a cup of wine after reciting their prayers to the gods, it feels as though a thousand sweets have dissolved on his tongue.

_Husband_ , Jeongin watches Seungmin mouth to him after they finish the small cup of wine, and tenderness swells in his heart.

Together, they bow three times — and the ceremony is concluded.

The evening is a haze of food and drink after they warm up inside the rooms, and Jeongin is unable to look away from Seungmin even when the room is full of people and relatives, decorations lavish. His attention is torn away momentarily when Seungmin’s two younger brothers come to him as Suyun talks to Seungmin, but that does not last long because night falls quickly in the winter.

“My brother can be an idiot sometimes,” Suyun says bluntly to Seungmin, “please take care of him.”

“I am capable of minding myself,” Jeongin says, injecting himself into the conversation.

“I am sure you are,” Seungmin says, and there is a hint of laughter to his tone. “But it would not hurt for us to take care of each other, yes?” His smile is brilliant even amongst the redness of the room, and Jeongin returns the smile unconsciously.

They leave the room first, and head towards the room made for their use tonight. The hallways seem longer than they were, and the moonlight shines in through the windows, casting silver onto their bodies.

“We do not need to do anything tonight,” Jeongin says, the moment they are alone in a room full of flowers and silk. “We have only just started to get to know each other again, I do not want to force you into something you do not wish to do.”

Seungmin pauses then, turns around from where he was heading towards the window. He still looks like a magnificent vision, clad in red robes edged with golden motifs and snow-white magnolias woven into his hair. His breath is fragranced with the wine that they drank for the ceremony earlier, and it is almost cloying when he steps close, _so close_ to Jeongin.

“And as I have said before,” Seungmin starts, gently holding Jeongin’s hands in his, “I never do what I do not like. And right now, my — husband, I like you a bit too much to hide it away.” His smile is soft and full of affection, and it is only natural that Jeongin smiles in return as well, enamoured.

“My husband,” Jeongin murmurs, palm coming up to cup Seungmin’s cheek, tilting his face up so their eyes can meet in the small difference that their heights give them. “My husband, of the magnolias and the oaks. How beautiful and brilliant is the man I married today.”

“You always have such sweet words on your tongue,” Seungmin returns, his voice breathy with tease and laughter, “I wonder that you do not read the poems and books in order to speak of such things fluently.”

“Why would I read poems and books when I have you to talk with, to look at, to cherish?” Jeongin says, and has the delight of watching red rise to Seungmin’s cheeks, a smile blossoming over his face.

“Now you are repeating your vows,” Seungmin says instead, the honest words hard to fall out of his mouth. More than words, he steps closer to Jeongin until they are pressed chest-to-chest, hands tangled together until it is impossible to distinguish them from each other.

“Because I will fulfil them every day from here on,” Jeongin replies, and leans forward to kiss Seungmin’s forehead softly. “In my duty I have come to wed you, but by choice I will choose to love you, my husband. My vows to you are not merely out of need, but also want.” He says these words quietly, but it stays with Seungmin like he has created new stars in the night sky that are destined to shine forever.

“Again,” Seungmin repeats, but now his words are almost watery, “again, you say these sweet things. You mustn’t spoil me, my husband, or I will come to miss a day when you do not say these things to me.”

“Then I will promise you that I will find a way to say these words every day,” Jeongin whispers, presses a myriad of kisses to Seungmin’s bangs and face. “To love, to cherish, to protect — these are all promises I have made to you, and they will never be empty.”

There is a pause — and then Seungmin surges up to press a kiss to the corner of Jeongin’s mouth, the scents of flowery wine pressed up together.

“And so will I,” Seungmin murmurs, perhaps aware that it is yet too early for them to spill so much affection towards each other but does not let these thoughts stop him. “From this day on, I will choose to love and cherish you every day, to protect and care for you.”

The moonlight slants in through the uncovered window, casting their room into a silvery glow. Their shadows are made long by the winter hours, and slowly, gently, the spaces between their shadows fill out any empty spaces that were present; what was two separate shadows meld into one, and what is left is peace.

“Let me take you to our bed,” Jeongin murmurs after a few moments; they separate into two shadows again.

“It is just a few steps away,” Seungmin teases, but allows Jeongin to guide him there until they sit on the edge of the plush bed, made up in silks so that it soothes their skin.

“Would you let me?” Jeongin asks, smiling at Seungmin. His gaze is warm, and the back of Seungmin’s neck burns as he nods and lets Jeongin loosen the cord around his waist, shedding the first of the many layers of robes that they both wear.

“I should ask the same question to you, my lord,” Seungmin says, his fingers hooking around the open collar of Jeongin’s robes and looking up at Jeongin with an almost coy smile. He knows that the sleeve of his robe is slowly slipping down his shoulder, and with delight, he watches as Jeongin’s eyes follow the fall of his sleeve and the reveal of his skin, bathed silver in moonlight.

“You little minx,” Jeongin murmurs, looking back up at his husband. “Of course I will let you.”

Layer by layer, their wedding robes are discarded; the outer robes are precious and expensive, and those are laid on the table at the foot of the bed. Their inner robes are sheer and made thinly, but as Jeongin watches Seungmin move around the room, moonlight trailing after his every step, it looks as though his husband is clothed in moon shine.

“What are you looking at?” Seungmin asks, once more stepping close. The fragrances of magnolia and wine perfumes the air around them again.

Jeongin thinks about saying these things to Seungmin — but there will be so many more days in which he can convey these meaningless thoughts to him. For now, he shakes his head and beckons for Seungmin to come closer.

“I told the servants that the sheets must be silk,” Seungmin says, laughing a little as they fall into bed together, thin under robes being all that separates the heat of their bodies from each other. “It would be unpleasant if my husband was not comfortable on our wedding night.”

“You planned for comfort, my honey?” Jeongin asks, voice full of affection and more as Seungmin swings a leg over his hips, settles there like he belongs. His hands find a home on the gentle curve of Seungmin’s hips, and his thumbs stroke a pattern from Seungmin’s waist to his hips, soft.

“Honey?” Seungmin asks, voice dropping a few shades until it sounds like the deeper echoes of a harp through midnight air. He bends down then, hair sweeping forward to curtain them off from the rest of the world, flowers still tangled in the strands and perfuming their love to scent of citrus and honey.

“My honey,” Jeongin says, and steadies his hands on Seungmin’s hips. “Would you? Would you give me the honour of calling you as mine, as you would call me yours?”

_Yours, mine, ours, I do not care what you call me as long as I have you by my side_ , Seungmin wants to say, but he is dazzled so by the mix of their hair, light and dark browns puddling to form chestnut against the silken pillows. _Forever_ , he wants to say, but it is still too early, too much, to say these words that promise of a lifetime.

“I would be delighted to be known as yours,” Seungmin says instead of all the thoughts that form tides in his mind, cresting as love, “and I know of no greater joy than to call you mine.”

There is hardly air to breathe in this wedding room that is silken and honeyed, but what is air to two people who have chosen to love beside their duty? They meld into one again, and this tender flame, this small but strong candle that is their love — they cup their hands around it so that it is not blown away by the winter breeze.

The room is no longer cold; Seungmin’s hands are being held against a beloved’s heart, beating fast.

“I want you,” Jeongin breathes, sultry and cloying even though the winter nights are frigid. “I want you like I want air. I want you not just as my husband, but as the person I love and cherish, the person that I come to in every moment of my life that is important. I want you, Kim Seungmin.” _I want to love you_.

“Then you have me,” Seungmin whispers in return, fierce in affection, “you have me, and you will continue to have me. We were brought together by our duties and responsibilities, but we choose to remain here. And I choose you, my dearest. I choose you, again and again and again.” _I choose to love you_.

The winter moonlight slants in through the windows, and they become one again. The cords around their robes are loosened until it is only skin against skin; there is oil and gentleness and murmurs full of praise. Jeongin’s hands make a home on Seungmin’s hips, and their love rings out across the room, into the night. 

* * *

Seungmin is still getting used to living further down south. It has been but a month since he moved in to live with his husband, and the winter days are becoming less frigid as _seollal_ approaches. He supposes it is good that _seollal_ is approaching — the clan is focused on preparing for _seollal_ rather than his new presence in the compound, which Jeongin suspects was what the _wangseja_ intended for.

Jeongin had assured him that they were merely curious and not hostile, but he would rather not have questions coming his way when he was still unfamiliar in his surroundings.

“Seungmin?”

At the call of his name, Seungmin’s head snaps up from where he was staring idly at the maps laid out in front of him. It is his husband.

“Jeongin?” Seungmin asks, gathering his robes to stand up and greet his husband. “I thought you would not come to see me until the afternoon _sura_?”

“It was easier than expected to have my father agree to sending reinforcements to the southern coastline,” Jeongin replies, pressing a gentle kiss to Seungmin’s forehead by way of greeting. “I found then that I had a spare hour before the _sura_ , and so I sought you out. Do you happen to be busy, my honey?”

“I was only looking at the maps of Jeolla-do,” Seungmin says, bringing Jeongin over to look at the maps as well. “I mapped out where the _wokou_ used to attack us and I am trying to seek if there is a pattern in their doing so.”

“Is it going well?”

“This is where they have attacked so far,” Seungmin says, tracing a finger along the dots of ink he had previously marked out. “They have not attacked recently, and I think it is due to the winter. It is too bitterly cold to have any sort of fighting, but as the winter comes to an end, it is likely that they will start their attacks again.”

“It seems as they are going further up the western coast… do you think Mokpo will be attacked next?”

“The offshore islands are more vulnerable to being attacked, I think, but it is impossible to know for sure when the _wokou_ will attack, or when they will attack.”

“Do you think it sensible then to establish garrisons, or erect defences along these parts of the coast?”

“It would not be a bad idea, but we would need to consult with the _wangseja_ first — or at the very least, his _daejang_. I think it is safe to assume that we have at least two more months before any _wokou_ will try and attack Jeolla-do.”

“We should try and seek an audience with the _wangseja_ before he proposes to the scholar Lee,” Jeongin says, and laughs a little at his words. “Even the gods know of their love… the wedding will be most grand.”

“Do the gods not know of ours, then?” Seungmin replies, teasing as he always is.

“Perhaps the small gods on that piece of land we once fought over,” Jeongin says, entertaining his husband. “I think it is so foolish of our clans to have fought over it — no one has mentioned those lands since we wed, and I believe none cared for those lands at all.” Then, seeing how Seungmin laughs, he cannot help but soften, and is reminded of what he came here for.

“But come away now, I have something to give to you before we have to leave for our afternoon _sura_ ,” Jeongin says, pulling Seungmin away from the table and the various maps. “I am sure you have been fretting about it all morning.”

“What is it that is so important you must have me before our meals?” Seungmin asks, teasing him lightly as he lets himself be pulled away into a further corner of the room.

Jeongin only smiles, passing his thumb over the gold _garakji_ that Seungmin wears; his own matching _garakji_ is on his finger, and it is still slightly unbelievable that they are married.

“Jeongin?” Seungmin prompts lightly.

“I wanted to give you this,” Jeongin begins, letting go of Seungmin’s hands and reaching deep into his robes. “I had this made just before we got married, but it was not ready until a few days ago.”

“You are making good on your promise to give me more gifts after we are married?” Seungmin says, finishing his sentence with a tiny laugh and receiving the rectangular box. “May I know what is inside?”

“You can open it for yourself,” Jeongin says, gesturing at it.

“Then I must thank you first,” Seungmin says, almost cheeky. For a moment, the winter sunshine gleams in brightly through the window; it blots out all sight, including how two meld into one, and when the glow softens, both Jeongin and Seungmin are red in their cheeks and smiling.

“My honey, if you do not open it soon, we will be called to _sura_.”

“I must open it with care,” Seungmin argues, gently placing the box onto a nearby desk, “my husband had this made for me!” Delicately, he lifts the lid of the box, not sure what to expect but his heart thumping anyway — and he gasps.

Inside the box, a beautiful gold hairpin is laid. At one end are a cluster of flowers, made of delicate ceramic and stained glass. Magnolias, Seungmin realises, and as he lifts the pin slowly, the flowers form a gentle dangle, interspersed with small jewels that hang from golden chains. It sparkles and shifts under the light of the lamp and the winter sunshine, and Seungmin is lost for words.

“I had it made in likeness of the flowers you love,” Jeongin explains, drawing closer until he stands behind Seungmin, palms gently finding its place on his hips. “How do you like it, my honey?”

“It is so — _beautiful_ ,” Seungmin says fiercely, gently setting the pin down in its box again and turning around in Jeongin’s hold to face him. “I was not expecting anything this beautiful — how could I thank you? It must have cost a fortune to have this crafted as such…”

“And you are worth more than a fortune,” Jeongin says, brushing away some of Seungmin’s hair that was gathered near his face. “I came to know that most of your hair pins were passed down from your mother, so I sought to have one made entirely for you.”

“I love it — I will treasure it. Thank you, my husband,” Seungmin says, and then he pauses, looks down at the magnolia hair pin. “Would you… would you put it in my hair for me?”

There is something in Jeongin’s smile that is equal parts loving and teasing, but he obliges. He picks the pin up carefully and slides it into Seungmin’s hair where it has been made into a knot by the servants in the morning. The dangling jewels chime gently against the ceramic magnolias as he moves his head, and it makes a delightful sound.

“You look and sound like the coming of spring,” Jeongin murmurs, and he is completely enamoured.

There is not much else that they are able to do then, for the servants knock on the door to tell them that the afternoon _sura_ is being served, and that they should leave. Even so, they leave with their hands entangled together, and the ceramic magnolias reflecting the winter sunshine, casting Seungmin’s oak-brown hair into an almost honeyed shade.

* * *

The winter is slowly coming to an end, Jeongin notices. The sun does not set as fast as it has been, and Seungmin’s knuckles are no longer red as often as it used to be. With the end of this bitter season, thoughts of training come to his mind again. He had been unable to train with preparations for the wedding as well as the weather, but he is sure his mentor will soon be telling him that he needs to train again.

“Do you train, my honey?” Jeongin asks abruptly one day, after their morning _sura_. Today, the sky is blue and traced by wisps of clouds; the wind does not blow and the snow does not fall.

“What?” Seungmin asks, slightly confused and looking up from where he had been reading a book.

“Oh — I apologise for interrupting. I was merely wondering if you did any training when you grew up. Winter is already ending, and it would be good to go outside and train again.”

“I do train,” Seungmin answers, marking the page in his book and setting it down. “Perhaps not as much as you, because of my pain, but it is enough that I can hold up in a fight if needs be.”

“Then would you like to train with me? The winter is coming to an end soon, and I find that I have more free time on my hands again. I would be delighted to have you with me.”

“I must warn you that I have not picked up a sword in a few months, my husband. The bow and arrow are more familiar to me, but even those might only come back to me after a few times of practice.”

“If you start practice soon, the few times you need will soon be over. I will tell my mentor that you will start your own training,” Jeongin says, mirth in his eyes, but then something heavier settles in his face, the lines of his mouth hardening. “I am sorry to spoil the mood, but we must also be prepared for when the _wokou_ inevitably attack.”

“Do not be sorry,” Seungmin replies, giving Jeongin a small, tense smile. “You are right. We all need to be prepared for the _wokou_. The winter may end, but the hardships will continue. It is better for us to be on-guard and ready.”

“Difficult it may be, but we are stronger this year,” Jeongin says, and gives his hand for Seungmin to hold. “Where we were at opposing ends last year, we are united this year.” This, he says with affection in his voice, and waits for Seungmin’s smile to soften before continuing.

“And more than ever, I have another loved one to fight for this time,” Jeongin murmurs, and traces the way Seungmin’s oak hair frames his face so delightfully. “I have made promises to Suyun and my relatives to come home safe, but I have never made an oath and prayer in the same breath.”

“So have I,” Seungmin returns, and it is the same scene of them sitting across each other in a small room, but every time still feels new and precious. “I want to…” He starts, but the words are hard to come out of his mouth.

_I want to become stronger. I want to stand by your side if we have to fight. I have also made an oath and a prayer, but I have also spent only so many nights with you and if I can no longer do that, I will lose myself._

“You want to?” Jeongin prompts gently. “My flower, what is it that you want?”

“I want to train as well,” Seungmin says, and settles on these words for now. They still have the rest of the winter protecting them yet, and perhaps one day he will understand these feelings before he begins to express it to Jeongin.

Despite this, Jeongin smiles at him, like he knows what Seungmin was thinking about.

In the coming weeks, Seungmin meets his newly-assigned mentor for swordsmanship, and it takes two weeks before he is even allowed to pick his sword up again, exacerbated by the fact that he needed to make sure he did not over-exert himself. _You must regulate your energy, your body, and your sword,_ Seungmin is told again and again. _Keep your mind concentrated, your posture straight and on-guard. Watch the movement of the enemy and take the offence before you can be backed into a corner._

It is exhausting in both the body and mind, but when he is finally able to pick up his _bonguk geom_ again, the weight of the sword settling into his hand like he never put it down, it only serves as further encouragement for him to continue with his training. The more familiar he becomes with his _bonguk geom_ , the warmer the weather turns, and soon the snow melts away into green, and buds emerge from within the grass, and above high on the trees.

“You have been working so hard,” Jeongin murmurs one evening, for they finally have an evening now. They are in Seungmin’s rooms, the ever-present scent of magnolias perfuming the air around them. “Your arms are sore, are they not? And your hands are chafed from holding the sword all day long.”

“It is like what you are doing, my husband,” Seungmin says, glancing over his shoulder to look at Jeongin. “A little pain now is preferable to being unprepared in the future.”

“Then would you let me help soothe your pains?” Jeongin asks, almost bashful in his request. From his robes, he produces an oil meant to be rubbed into the skin to relieve aches, and the back of Seungmin’s neck flares with heat.

“I would… like for you to do so,” Seungmin replies, and turns away before Jeongin can see the flush reach his cheeks. With slightly trembling hands, he reaches for the cord around his robes and loosens it; of these outer layers, he discards it entirely until he is left only in his inner robes.

He can feel Jeongin come to stand behind him, warmth of his body just an inch away from his back, and he is sure that if Jeongin puts his hands on him now, he will feel it through the thin robe. Reaching up, he gathers his hair loosely and ties it before bringing it to the front — then before his bravery can betray him, he loosens the cord of his inner robe just slightly until the fabric slips off his shoulders and pools around his waist like he is sitting in a puddle of moonlight.

“Seungmin?” Jeongin asks from behind him, and somewhere in his voice, Seungmin recognises strain and want and affection.

“We should not get oil on my robes,” Seungmin says in return, and he reaches behind for Jeongin’s hand, bringing it to settle on the curve of his neck and shoulder gently. “You said you would relieve my pain, did you not, my husband?”

He can hear Jeongin breathe in deeply through his nose, and the scent of magnolias only becomes more dizzying in this room that contains their feelings.

“The oil might be cold,” Jeongin murmurs, and then he smooths the oil onto Seungmin’s shoulders and down is arms, hands warm against Seungmin’s skin.

Somehow, even though they had spent their wedding night and more nights together, this feels different. The scent of eucalyptus mixes with the magnolia until it is heady, and Seungmin melts underneath his touch as he kneads at Seungmin’s shoulders until they are no longer tense.

“How do you feel?” Jeongin asks quietly, taking one of Seungmin’s arms and pressing gently into his muscles, intending to relieve his aches.

“It feels wonderful,” Seungmin admits, and when he turns to face him, Jeongin can see the colour in his face. “Your… your hands feel good.”

“Does it?” Jeongin says, and Seungmin can feel these words breathed onto the back of his neck, warm against warmer oil. “Will you give me leave to take care of you, my love?”

There are words Seungmin wants to reply with, that he wants to press into Jeongin’s skin until it colours; instead, he settles for turning towards his husband, and then they meld together. As the sun slowly sets into the horizon, their bodies are cast golden and the headiness of eucalyptus and magnolia seeps into their skin, their lungs.

“You are…” Jeongin begins, voice low in this golden room, but he does not finish his sentence.

“I am?” Seungmin asks, almost breathless. He has half a mind to come off his hands and sit up, look back at his husband — but then he feels the softest press of a mouth against the middle of his back, gentle. “Jeongin?”

“Let me,” Jeongin murmurs instead, and his tone is almost worshipful.

The words are so close on his lips. They are like crystal candies, sweetened by honey and syrup, waiting to fall from his mouth; but they never do. Even as they lie here, covered by the bronze sunlight, and Seungmin is looking at his husband’s delicate features, the words are difficult to leave his mouth.

“How do you feel?”

Seungmin pauses in running his fingers through Jeongin’s hair. Every part of their body is touching, and they are still taking in lungfuls of eucalyptus and magnolias as they sink into the sheets, satisfied. Indeed — how does he feel?

“Everything good,” Seungmin says, finally settling on these vague words. “And you?”

Jeongin only smiles.

They meld together once again, this time into the darkness, the shadows, as the sun sinks beneath the horizons. The perfumes of eucalyptus and magnolia has faded, but in their place there rises more affection, more tenderness — and more love. It is only a matter of time.

* * *

Spring has finally arrived, Seungmin thinks to himself as he gazes up at the brilliantly blue sky. With the arrival of this new season, it also means that it has been a few months since they have been wed. _When,_ he wonders, as the servant braids half of his hair upwards and threads the magnolia hairpin through the braided knot, _when will it be natural for our tenderness to be revealed to each_ other? Somehow, even though they both know of each other’s feelings, they could not quite bring the most honest words to their lips just yet, instead choosing to say or express it in more roundabout ways.

“You seem to have a lot on your mind, young master,” His servant says, stepping away from his hair.

“Oh — it is nothing, Areum-ah. Thank you for braiding my hair so wonderfully.”

“It is my pleasure, young master. Would you like to take a stroll outside today since you are free from training and most duties? I believe the gift your husband prepared for you is ready.”

Seungmin startles at that, turns around in his seat to look at Areum. “Gift? From my husband?”

“Yes, young master. We were told to bring you there while he was away to seek the _wangseja’s_ audience.”

“Then I would be delighted to have a stroll,” Seungmin says, abruptly remembering the contents of the letter Jeongin had left for him just yesterday. Standing up, he follows Areum out of his room after being persuaded to wear a coat over his robes, and he cannot help the smile when he is greeted by the gentle early spring breeze.

“It is in the north-eastern part of the compound, near the edge of the forest,” Areum explains, and they walk from wooden hallways to cobbled grounds and finally soft grass. “Please be careful, the ground around here is uneven.”

They walk for maybe five minutes before they come to the clearing between the edges of the compound and the start of the forest. In this small space, it is the presence of a young willow tree that catches Seungmin’s eye, and he walks towards it slowly, the bright green allowing patches of sunlight to shine through it.

“Young master Yang had this planted for you, and the bench placed,” Areum says, coming to stand next to him, a few paces away.

“My husband planted this for me?” Seungmin asks, coming to pause beneath the willow tree, just in front of the bench.

“Yes. The young master thought it would be a lovely gift, as a welcome for you.”

“But it has been a few months since our wedding, and since then he has gifted me combs and hair pins, and done up a room for me most elegantly.”

“The young master thought you would like this the most, since your family lived further inland. I do not think you are used to being further out, nearer to the coast?”

Seungmin smiles, looks up at the willow tree. Almost instinctively, he reaches up and gently touches the ends of a branch, the leaves a different texture under his fingers. The leaves hang down in long sweeps, cascading down in layers of bright green that filters the sunlight most magnificently.

“I must thank him, then,” Seungmin murmurs, and he cannot stop looking at the willow tree. “It is a most precious gift.”

It takes Jeongin a week for his visit to the _wangseja_ about their plans for the _wokou_ in place of his father, and in that one week, Seungmin visits the willow tree every day. They had agreed that Jeongin should be the one to pay the Palaces a visit so that at least one of them would be around in case the _wokou_ heard wind that the compounds were without their masters.

Underneath the willow tree, Seungmin begins to see small buds growing amongst the plush grass. The buds are numerous and it is difficult to tell what flowers they will be since they are so low against the ground, but Seungmin thinks he recognises _eolleji_ , dandelions, and violets.

On the fifth day, Areum brings him wildflower tea with a small saucer of honey.

“It is nice to have tea outside, is it not?” She asks, smiling, and Seungmin thanks her.

Seungmin cups his hands around the tea and hopes he will be able to share this with Jeongin. This — this beautiful space that he had made for no other reason than love. This place with the scent of spring, this place which retains warmth better than any room, this place with the simple bench and the young willow tree and the blooming buds underfoot.

(“the _wangseja_ asked me why you did not accompany me there,” jeongin says, the night he comes back. “oh, how i wished that i could take you with me. i have – i have missed you.”

seungmin listens to the tremble of jeongin’s voice, and the flutter of his heart. “i have too. i have missed you in ways i cannot begin to describe.” he thinks about the willow tree and the bench and the unbloomed flowers and his heart clenches tenderly.

“then i shall never leave you again,” jeongin murmurs, pressing a kiss to seungmin’s knuckles that are no longer cold. “where i go, i shall ask for you to join me, and wherever you go, i entreat for you to let me follow.”

“i will,” seungmin says, his voice equally quiet, but he surges forwards to take jeongin in his arms. “i will — always.”)

* * *

“I heard from Areum that he really likes the willow tree you had planted for him,” Suyun says when their swords clash against each other, and they are in hearing range momentarily. “He would not stop visiting it for the week that you were not here.” Jeongin pushes back against her and they both breathe in heavily, stance careful and concentrated.

“You are not distracting me, Suyun,” Jeongin returns, and grits his teeth as they move around each other, watching every footstep and every twitch of the finger. 

“Imagine me as one of the _wokou_ ,” Suyun says loudly, watching Jeongin slowly edge towards her. “Imagine that I know of your husband, and how eager you are to protect him. Imagine that I told you he was hurt — _oraboni_!”

Jeongin presses his lips together and thrusts his sword under Suyun’s guard, and if this was a real fight, he would have cleanly sliced through her abdomen. But Suyun is not to be unguarded around either. Swiftly, she parries his thrust with the blunt of her sword to push him back a few paces.

“You need to hide your feelings, _oraboni_ ,” Suyun calls, looking almost wild where she stands against him.

_I still remember when you could hardly hold a sword up…_ Jeongin thinks to himself, but banishes the thought entirely, narrowing his focus in again on Suyun.

Like that, they parry back-and-forth a few more times, the metal ringing loudly as it clashes against each other, and when their mentors finally step in to tell them that it is time for their spar to end, they can finally relax their guard and roll their shoulders. Jeongin listens to what his mentor has to say to him — it is all the same spiel of _hide your feelings, concentrate and anticipate the enemy’s moves, never break your posture_ — before he goes to Suyun.

“I daresay you fight better than me now,” Jeongin says, smiling as he approaches Suyun, who has also finished listening to her own mentor. “Though I doubt you would know so much personal information about the enemy to get under their skin like you did to me.”

“I will become better than you,” Suyun declares, and makes a face to her brother. “Besides, I was only doing that to make you realise that you should be prepared for enemies to use Seungmin- _oraboni_ against you.”

Jeongin sighs. As much as he does not want to admit it, both his mentor and Suyun are right. No one is above to using underhanded tactics to win against their opponents, and it will only be his loss if he is thrown off guard at the mention of his husband.

“I will work on it, so you can leave that worry to me.”

“I was not _worried_ , when have I _ever_ indicated as much so?”

“Oh, were you not worried? I shall use another word — you were stricken at the thought of losing your only brother that you bothered to bring it up to him that —“

“I shall be taking my leave,” Suyun says, cutting over him, and she looks almost huffy like they are children again and Jeongin had taken the last of the _bibimbap_. “I have a letter to reply to, and you have Seungmin- _oraboni_ waiting for you.”

“A letter to reply to?” Jeongin asks, suddenly interested. “And who might that be?”

“It is none of your business,” Suyun says, her voice nasal-like from how she sniffs, but then she pauses, turns to look at her brother. “It is… Seo Yunkyoung.”

“The innkeeper’s daughter?” Jeongin says, faintly remembering the name. “I did not know you knew her.”

All he gets in return is Suyun huffing at him before leaving, and Jeongin has to suppress a smile as he watches his sister walks away. If she needed help from him, she would ask him, even in the most roundabout ways. For now, he thanks his mentor, promises to practice on his concentration, and puts away his gear before making his way to find his husband.

He finds his matron bustling away in the kitchens, and she tells him that Seungmin is in the tea room with Areum. “I hear he has something for you,” She says in a low tone, and sends him off with a plate of sweets for them to share.

The way to the tea room is familiar with how often he has taken it, and as promised he finds Seungmin and Areum in there. Areum is sitting in the corner, having taken up some embroidery; Seungmin is looking thoughtfully at a vase in front of him, with a few stems of flowers laying beside him. At his entrance, Seungmin looks up and his face brightens with a smile.

“You are finished with training!” Seungmin exclaims in delight, coming to receive his husband. “You are not injured?”

“I am not,” Jeongin replies, smiling. He lets Seungmin press kisses to his knuckles before they both move to sit at the tea table. “Have you rested today, my flower?”

“I was told to take it easy because of my back, I have only made tea and read, then I walked around the little garden we have,” Seungmin says, and gestures at the stems of flowers he has on the table. “I cut some pink camellia from a wild bush today. It was flowering so heavily that the inner buds could not reach the sunlight.”

“Are you planning to dry these?” Jeongin asks, and accepts the cup of lemon preserve tea that Seungmin hands him. “They are such a pretty colour, the spring this year has been good.”

“I will. They would be pretty in your rooms, I think?”

“My rooms?”

“Yours,” Seungmin affirms, and he turns to smile at him, almost bashful. “So that you will remember me even when I am not with you.”

“Ah,” Jeongin murmurs, “but why would I need the flowers to remind me of you? You – you, my love – you are always on my mind.” _It is almost a fault of mine to think of you so constantly_ , Jeongin wants to say, but then Seungmin’s hand slips into his own, and his words are all taken from him.

Quietly, Areum leaves them, sliding the door shut behind her.

“I have missed you,” Seungmin admits, and brings Jeongin’s hands up to his mouth again, kisses his knuckles softly.

“I have only been away for the afternoon,” Jeongin says, but he leans forward, rests his head in the curve of Seungmin’s neck and shoulder, linen pressing against his skin. “How is it possible to miss you this much already?” He asks, mouth against Seungmin’s robes, and it is more of question to himself than one for Seungmin to answer.

_Love_ , Seungmin wants to say. _Love is the answer. Love is why I miss you, and why you miss me_.

It would be so easy to say it right now. They are surrounded by fresh flowers and dried flowers and Jeongin smells like heat and sand and their bodies are warm against each other. Their hands are tangled together, and the loveliest pair of _garakji_ shines on both of their fingers in the gentle spring sunshine.

It would be so easy.

Instead, Seungmin lets go of one of Jeongin’s hands and reaches up to card through Jeongin’s hair.

“Your hair is getting long,” Seungmin says, voice soft.

Jeongin only turns his head over a little, and presses a kiss to Seungmin’s neck.

They stay like that for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

The start of summer has arrived. The days are long and stretch well past what should be evening, and the air is becoming humid with moisture. Their thick robes are packed away and the silks brought out to combat the heat. Outside, the flowers blossom thickly, and insects and birds are easily found.

“Did you hear?” Seungmin asks, and they are alone in the lovely tea room again today. The windows have been thrown open to let air flow through on this slow summer afternoon, and it brings the scent of grass and flowers along with it into the room.

“Hear what, my love?” Jeongin replies, slightly distracted with the book he holds in his hand. He finishes the sentence he is reading then sets it down, looks up at his husband.

“The _wangseja_ is to marry the scholar Lee in the autumn. Apparently they have been engaged since the spring, but the Palaces have confirmed it only just a week or two ago.”

“The _wangseja_ must have wanted the scholar Lee to himself for a few weeks,” Jeongin supplies, laughing slightly. He leans forward and rests his chin on the palm of his hand, gazing across the table to look at his husband. “This must be why he told me that we should expect a letter from the Palaces when summer arrived.”

“The _wangseja_ is in love,” Seungmin agrees, and his laughter joins Jeongin’s.

“I wonder what the _wangseja_ has gifted the scholar,” Jeongin says, eyes on the hairpin that is threaded through Seungmin’s hair. “I do not think the _wangseja_ would have spared any expense.”

“It cannot be better than what my husband has given me,” Seungmin replies, and his smile is so soft.

Almost at the same time, they gaze out the open window of the tea room. This tea room had become their favourite as one of the windows faced the little space between the compound and the forest. From here, they could see the willow tree and the newly planted oak tree, with the bench just out of sight.

“I thought you were jesting when you said you planted an oak tree there,” Seungmin says, his eyes on the tree.

“It reminded me of you,” Jeongin says, honest.

“My hair, yes?”

“Like the most magnificent of the oaks.”

There is a pleasant lull in their conversation then; Seungmin focused on pouring tea for them, and Jeongin focused on tracing his husband’s features with his gaze. It is their first summer as a married couple, and everything feels new with Seungmin by his side. Even the scent of the flowers are sweeter, and the heat of the summer more bearable when Seungmin is there with him.

"The rooms always smell like you now," Jeongin says into the air of this slow summer afternoon, and the humidity draws out his words, leaves it lingering there in the air for them to soak in. It seeps into the petals of the flowers Seungmin dried a season ago, colours faded but the love remaining.

Seungmin looks up from where his hands are cradling a cup of warm tea, freshly poured. Even in the summer, he prefers to have warm drinks, Jeongin notes, and reminds himself to have more teas be bought.

"The magnolia blossoms smell wonderful, do they not?" Seungmin returns, referring to how he always drops a few fresh magnolia flowers into a basin of water, letting them perfume the rooms. They may have separate rooms, but the scent of the magnolias always permeates through the walls and out into the compounds.

"You smell of the magnolias," Jeongin says instead, and has the privilege of watching a smile bloom across Seungmin's mouth.

"Then," Seungmin murmurs, as sweet and gentle as this summer day, "what is your favourite flower, my husband?"

Jeongin does not need to think to answer. "You," He says, and presses a kiss to Seungmin's knuckles, "my flower."

These summer days are long, and they are slow. Even then, it still feels as though they never have enough time together; for now, they sit like that, two hearts facing each other and still learning how to hold it carefully so they do not hurt.

“You have to leave soon, is that not right?” Seungmin murmurs, referring to meant to meet Suyun in a few minutes.

“That is later,” Jeongin says, and they continue to hold each other’s hands.

(seungmin is still there by the time jeongin comes back from meeting suyun. _come sit with me_ , he says, and gestures to the seat opposite him. he still smells of the magnolias, but now there is wildflower and honey in the mix; his hair, brown like the oaks, spills out from where his hair was put up, and it mats against the back of his neck. he is so lovely.

seungmin smiles at him. _the days are long. drink tea with me_.)

* * *

“How hard could it be to build a garden?” Jeongin asks, both a question to himself as well as his matron.

“Where would you even build it, my dear boy?” His matron laughs, reverting to the old nickname she had always called Jeongin by. “The compounds have no space, and I daresay you have no time to go looking for a land to garden.”

“No no, I meant — the space between the northeast of the compound and the forest… would it be easy to cultivate the forest? To keep it as it is but to also take care of it,” Jeongin clarifies, and he groans when he sees his matron’s smile grow wider.

“I will certainly not stop you, especially since the land is shared now,” His matron says, teasing. “And I am sure young master Kim would adore it, as he has adored everything you gifted him.”

“I shall think about it,” Jeongin mumbles.

Think about it he does. It is the only thing he thinks about for a few days, wondering if it was possible to do so. He did not want to damage the forest, but if he could make it more accessible and help the plants there grow better, it would be most ideal.

With these thoughts in his mind, he goes to consult a few servants as well as Suyun, because she happened to be talking to head servant Lee. He endures their teasing while he tells them about what he plans to do, and receives advice and cooperation for his effort.

“It can be executed as a surprise,” Head servant Lee suggests. “When you and the young master Kim leave for Hanseong to attend the _wangseja’s_ wedding, we could prepare the garden. It will be a surprise to him, and a complete one at that.”

“Oh, what it must be like to be in love,” Suyun jests, giggling as she moves past Jeongin. “If only Seungmin- _oraboni_ could see you like this.”

Slowly, preparations to build the garden are put into place, but just subtly enough that Seungmin will not notice it. Some guards were told to scout the small forest and return with information; they reported small, natural clearings with flowers and fruit trees, and one of them — the largest clearing — contained a spring, surrounded by brilliant golden trees.

The gardeners were consulted about the types of trees that were contained in the forest — maples and birches are the most common, came the answer — and plans were drawn up on how best to take care of these trees as well as turn it into a wild garden of sorts. This meant that Jeongin had been spending less time with Seungmin lately, but Seungmin was coincidentally preoccupied with more training, so it left them at a happy medium.

To not arouse any suspicion, Jeongin was encouraged to take Seungmin to the small garden as usual, but only at a time when none of the guards nor gardeners were carrying out activities there.

“I will bring you _sagwa-hwachae_ and _boksunga-jeonggwa_ ,” Areum says, smiling as they sit under the willow tree. “It is a lovely day out, please do enjoy yourselves.”

Indeed, it is a lovely day out, and the slight breeze brings the scent of flowers and grass with it; the sun warms their skin through the silk of their robes. What else could they ever want than to sit next to each other on this beautiful summer’s day? Areum brings them their treats and bids them a nice time before leaving for the compounds once again.

“I think there is a plum blossom tree over there,” Seungmin says, accepting the cup of _sagwa-hwachae_ from Jeongin. “The wind has brought the flowers to us,” He adds, pointing out a few stray blossoms by their feet.

“Do you want to find the trees?” Jeongin asks, taking a bite of the _boksunga-jeonggwa_. “I do not think they could be very far away.”

Seungmin only stands up, and holds his hand out; his smile is brilliant. Without any hesitation, Jeongin takes his hand and they fall into pace next to each other. There is not much to look at, in this small space between the compounds and the forest, but it is their space, with the willow tree and the oak tree and the wildflowers that bloom plentifully under their feet.

_I want to give you everything_ , Jeongin thinks to himself, watching Seungmin step carefully over rocks and branches as they walk into the forest. _All that makes you happy_ — _I want to give it all to you._

“Look!” Seungmin gasps, and they emerge from within the trees into a small clearing, and they are surrounded by plum blossom trees. A gentle wind blows through the clearing, and it settles petals onto the ground, their robes, their hair. “There are so many here… I did not know they grew so well like this.”

“It is beautiful,” Jeongin agrees, his eyes darting between the flowers and his own flower. “I had never bothered to come out here before I met you.”

Seungmin turns to look at Jeongin then, and all his breath leaves him in a rush. The wind had been kind and scattered petals onto Jeongin, and the pale pink petals settle softly into his hair, on his shoulders. He looks like something from a precious dream.

“You are beautiful,” Seungmin murmurs, grass rustling under his feet as he steps closer towards Jeongin. “The plum blossoms are so pretty in your hair.”

Jeongin smiles, steps closer.

Once again, they meld together. The spring breeze picks up, and it sends a rush of petals into their hair, settling on intertwined arms and silken robes. They are not disturbed for the time that they are there.

The petals of the plum blossoms float gently in their leftover _sagwa-hwachae_.

* * *

The clan called it a garden. Jeongin did not really call it a garden. He had simply asked for the forest to be cultivated, to keep the wild trees and flowers and bushes but that they should be taken care of. Where there were natural clearings, he told the servants to place benches that would fit the clearing, and for a stone path to be placed to the little spring in the forest.

If there were less servants around the compound in the days coming up to their trip to Hanseong, Seungmin was too preoccupied to really notice. It had been a while since he had travelled to Haegeum, and since they were expressly invited by the _wangseja_ , they had to pack well.

“I am convinced the _wangseja_ knows everything about everyone in this country,” Jeongin says, once again rubbing oil into Seungmin’s skin during the night.

“What makes you say that?” Seungmin asks, arching into his husband’s touch, sighing as Jeongin’s fingers work at his tense muscles.

“He knew that we played together in our childhood, and that if we wed before _seollal_ it would take attention before us since preparations for _seollal_ would have commenced immediately.”

“Perhaps he simply has more foresight than us,” Seungmin says, turning around to draw his husband in. “But it is late now, and we must rise early tomorrow.”

“Is this your way of banishing me from your room?” Jeongin asks, laughing a little. He withdraws his hands from Seungmin’s skin and leaves a lingering kiss on Seungmin’s forehead.

“You know I would not have you leave if I had my way,” Seungmin says, almost indignant in tone.

“I know, I know,” Jeongin says, appeasing his husband by pressing another kiss to his hands. “But you are right. We must retire to our own rooms for the night, and I will see you before the sun rise tomorrow, my flower.”

“Dream of me,” Seungmin teases, surging up to briefly meld their bodies together.

Jeongin only smiles, cups Seungmin’s face lovingly. “I already am, my love.”

Before sunrise the next morning, they have already left the compounds to head for Haegeum. Everyone was slightly on-edge that both of the young masters had left — and even though they were not technically the clan heads yet, they had been running business in place of Jeongin’s father, who many agreed was time for him to step down.

“Does he not have enough things to do?” Jeongin father demands a day after they have left. “The _wokou_ will attack soon, and he is asking us to build a garden for that husband of his?”

“You are not to talk of this,” Suyun says calmly, surveying her father through cool eyes. “Seungmin- _oraboni_ has done his utmost in planning out the defences and attacks against the _wokou_ , and Jeongin- _oraboni_ has been working tirelessly to make sure the commoners are protected from the _wokou_. You have done nothing but complain about things in your room.”

With that, Suyun turns on her heel and leaves without asking permission to do so from her father, and it leaves him spluttering, enraged, but the servants follow her out too — and he is left in his room.

Ignoring their father’s anger and complaints was something Suyun was very accustomed to doing, especially when she had better company. Her brothers were away to Haegeum, and so she supervised the running of the clan business with her mentors and the servants, along with further honing of her swordsmanship.

Jeongin and Seungmin were to be away for two weeks in the capital, and when the week ended, the messenger had brought her two letters. One from each of her brothers, all containing notes on how brilliant the festivities were. Seungmin had promised to bring her a gift from Haegeum, while Jeongin said he would never return for being free of clan duties was so thrilling.

She laughed at their letters, wrote a reply, and then went to look at how the garden was being made.

“We found golden bell trees surrounding the spring,” One of the servants tell her when she reaches the edge of the forest. “It is a most lovely sight. Would you like to see, young mistress?”

“I would be delighted,” Suyun replies warmly, and follows him to the springs. There are more servants in that area, picking weeds and clearing the spring of fallen branches, but the wind that blows here is cool and the brightly coloured trees beautiful – she is sure that her brothers would love it here.

“The young master is so in love,” Another servant remarks, depositing a few branches underneath a tree. “To have the very forest where the disagreement started from be turned into a garden for his husband is very romantic, would you not agree, young mistress?”

“My brother is too soft,” Suyun says, but privately she agrees. “Thank you all for your hard work, as always,” She adds. “It is the afternoon now, so make your way back into the compounds to rest. I will have the cooks bring you _naengguk_ and _hwachae_ , as the seasonal fruits will allow.”

There is a small chorus of _thank yous_ that echo throughout the small clearing, and Suyun makes her way back into the compounds. _Only a week left before they return_ , Suyun thinks to herself — but she is also worried. They had kept Seungmin and Jeongin’s leaving a secret for fear that the _wokou_ would catch wind of it and launch a swift attack against them.

It is fortunate that they have the gods blessing with them this time. Jeongin and Seungmin’s return had been delayed by a few days as the _wangseja_ had asked them to stay. It was not for nothing — the _wangseja’s_ husband had told them information about the _wokou_ they did not previously know, and they had been most grateful for it.

“You must come and see me in Haegeum every now and then,” Minho, the _wangseja’s_ husband says, smiling at them. “You have the protection of the Palaces with you, and you will always be welcome here.”

After that, they had rushed back, anxious to see if everyone at home was safe.

“I hope they are all safe,” Seungmin had murmured on the way back as the carriage rocked over uneven side roads, taken to throw any possible followers or ambushers off. “We have only heard from Suyun once, when she replied to our letters a week ago.”

“I am sure they are doing well,” Jeongin says, but he is also worried. Being away for two weeks was already risky, but to delay their return would put everyone’s safety in more danger.

“We can only wait,” Seungmin says, sighing a little. “Come — rest here, my husband. We will find out if our home remains standing soon.”

_Home_.

Jeongin’s heart clenches painfully. There is so much more to lose now that Seungmin thinks of this as his home, but he has gained so much that he has the bravery to protect all that he loves. And — now, he knows without a doubt that he loves Seungmin.

“Why do you look at me like that,” Seungmin says, looking at Jeongin. Their hands are tangled together as it is natural for them to do so, and the light in Seungmin’s eyes reminds Jeongin of the gentle winter sunshine.

“Like what?” Jeongin asks, temporarily distracted by how his hair falls across his cheek.

“Like… like you only see me,” Seungmin says, and even though he has tempered his words, they still sound like something the poets say, too fragile to be said aloud.

“You are,” Jeongin whispers, and they have become so close. “You are, my love.” _Like the promise I made all those months ago… I have found love in you._ “Now that I have you, I do not think I could bear to have you go.”

“And where would I go?” Seungmin returns, smiling, and Jeongin feels it against his own. “Where would I go without you?” His palm smooths down Jeongin’s arms to find his hand again, and he speaks against Jeongin’s mouth. “Our places are next to each other, my love.” _I would never leave you. I have come to love you too much._

For the rest of the carriage ride home, they rest like that. They have too much worry to think of other things, but to have each other like this, to be pressed against warmth, to have their worries eased by another — there is so much in these actions and words. There is their oath but there is also a promise to stay, to care, to share their burdens.

They will always worry, and they will always have to be on guard for enemies — but here, they can rest. Here, in each other’s arms, they are safe.

(they return home safe, and find their home safe. it is more than a relief — jeongin pulls suyun close to him for a while despite her protests, and it is with a light heart that they greet everyone as they step off the carriage and into their rooms.

with how long the summer days are, it is still light out even in the late evening, and jeongin takes seungmin out on request of head servant lee. _we would like some more time to prepare the evening sura as a celebration of your return_ , is what they are told, and jeongin takes the hint.

“are we going to the garden?” seungmin asks, curious, as jeongin takes them along the familiar path to the garden.

“yes,” jeongin replies, his heart thudding in his chest so quickly that he is surprised seungmin cannot hear it.

the late evening sun casts a delightful glow upon everything, and even the simple bench placed under the willow tree two seasons ago looks beautiful, gilded in bronze. squeezing seungmin’s hand in his, jeongin takes seungmin into the forest, following the paved stone path.

“are we – are we going into the forest?” seungmin asks, a little breathless. “there were no stones paving this path before, were they?”

“no,” jeongin answers, and then he comes to a stop. “here we are, my love.

they are standing in a small clearing, with a spring bubbling quietly just a few paces away from their feet. golden bell trees enclose the clearing, their colour made even more brilliant by the sunshine, and it looks exactly like a painting come to life in front of their eyes.

“you… you had this made?” seungmin asks, once he regains his words. the spring bubbles clear water, the little noise it makes wonderful to the ear; the golden bell trees stretch towards the skies like a bridge to the heavens; the clearing is so peaceful that seungmin could have never imagined they fought a war over this.

“i had the forest preserved but to have it taken care of,” jeongin begins, and he circles his arms around seungmin’s waist, resting his chin gently on seungmin’s shoulder. “i had it made for you.”

there is a pause, like seungmin is trying to understand his words. and then — their two bodies meld together like they had been crafted from the same mould once again. how could they not have been? the space between their fingers, the shapes of their mouth, the fit of their bodies against each other — it was as if they had been made to love each other.

“how can i thank you?” seungmin murmurs, and he looks so beautiful in the sunshine filtered by these golden trees. “how could i possibly — when you have given me so much?”

jeongin brushes away a lock of his hair, moves to kiss his forehead. “you have given me so much, my love. in ways that you do not even know of, you have helped and protected me. i can only ask for the privilege to let me stay by your side.”

“then i will continue as i am,” seungmin says, voice quiet and only for jeongin to hear. “as long as i can stay by your side, i will continue to care for you like this.”

and once again, they meld into one under the bronzed sunlight.)

* * *

By the time Seungmin and Jeongin have settled back into the compounds to continue their normal days, autumn has arrived, and in full blow.

Autumn is always a pleasant season, with cooler days and the beauty of the trees turning red, but there is a tenseness present in the compound, throughout Jeolla-do. Their predictions of the _wokou_ attacking in the summer had not come true; at the same time, there was more and more intel coming through that the _wokou_ had gathered up their strength and was preparing for an attack soon.

_Be on your guard_ , a letter from the _wangseja_ had read. _I will send daejang Bang and sojang Shin and a few more Palace guards within this week to your compounds. I am sure you will find their presence helpful. They are to stay there until you no longer require their help._

“We owe the _wangseja_ so much,” Seungmin had said, looking a little pale as he read the letter over again. “I do not understand… why did they not attack? Their resources should have run out by this time – unless they had someone helping them?”

“We must prepare in the event they decide to launch an attack,” Jeongin says, mouth thin as he shuffles through the papers containing intel and maps. “They could not possibly be thinking to attack any later than this… it will be winter — that is guaranteed death if they are coming from the sea.”

With all the tension running through the compound, it is of little surprise that everyone has taken to be more cautious, and more training has been going out. Jeongin’s father had quietly stepped down — something Suyun attributed to her doing — and Jeongin and Seungmin took over.

_Better to have no fuss_ , Jeongin’s matron said as she dressed him in newer, more formal robes. _It would not be good to draw attention to us._

She was right — for if the _wokou_ thought Jeongin’s father was still the head of the clan, they held the element of surprise in that it would be Jeongin leading the battle and not his father.

“If you ride with me you will be another surprise,” Jeongin had jested, but Seungmin shook his head.

“I will go with you. I cannot bear to stay and not know how you are faring.”

Jeongin softens. “I would have entreated you come with me too. I know you are able… and I too, could not bear to not know how you were doing.”

“You are awful,” Suyun had called them, because they were all having tea together.

“They are just like that,” Minseo, the youngest of the Yeonan Kim brother, says airily.

“All typical behaviour,” Daehwi, the middle child, adds.

Despite all of their light-hearted teasing, there was the very real fear that there would be a fight breaking out, and very soon. With this knowledge weighing heavily on their minds, most of them had taken to training often, and Seungmin was not an exception.

When he was growing up, he had started training later than one usually would, for his back was in a slightly delicate condition ever since he was a child. The physician had told him to take it easy, to delay training, and to work in intermittent periods; he had followed these instructions for a good part of his life. This was one of the reasons why he always maintained a straight posture and kept his workload light.

Even now, as their training increases by the day, Seungmin is reminded to not over-exert himself. Every care is taken to make sure he does not injure himself, but everything had happened in an instance. To be sure, everyone knew of Seungmin’s back, that pain would come to him if he over-exerted himself or strained his back.

But — accidents occur.

When they are sparring, Daehwi is just a step too far away — Seungmin misjudges the distance by just a pace — he thrusts the sword just too far out — and immediately drops his sword. It clatters onto the sand as Seungmin drops to the ground, gritting the latter part of his shout into his teeth as the pain shoots sharply from his lower back.

“ _Hyung_?” Daehwi asks, panicked. “ _Hyung_ , what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

“My – my back,” Seungmin manages through clenches teeth, “I – I over-extended —“

“Daehwi, call for the physician,” Seungmin’s mentor says, stepping in. “Seungmin, are you able to stand?”

There are a few moments of Seungmin trying to regulate his breathing as the pain remains, shooting down his leg in painful rivulets, before he can even look up and try to answer what has been asked of him.

“I think – I think I can stand but I may need some help,” Seungmin murmurs, the pain overriding everything else in his mind. It is pain of a magnitude that he has not felt in weeks, and to feel it again feels like he has undone all of his work to keep his pain at bay and maintain his strength for the past few weeks.

With the help of his mentor, Seungmin manages to comes to his own feet, and they make their slow way to his rooms, trying not to further aggravate his back. The physician is already waiting for him when they arrive, and Seungmin sits down on a chair gratefully, wincing as he does so.

“Daehwi told me you over-extended yourself while sparring?” The physician asks, gesturing for Seungmin to sit sideways.

“It was — an accident,” Seungmin says, sitting up as he feels a jolt of pain throb through his back.

“Does it hurt just in your lower back?”

“I feel it in my leg too,” Seungmin admits. “It is the same as when I was growing up. I thought I felt it a lot less now, but…”

“These things take time,” The physician says, pressing gently on his lower back. “I would recommend rest for today, and to have no heavy physical movement for the next few weeks. It would be good to take light activities up instead.”

Seungmin looks around sharply at that. “No heavy physical movement? What about sparring?”

The physician shakes their head. “Absolutely no sparring. You will not recover well if you engage in heavy physical activity again.”

Seungmin nods, defeated. “Very well. You may leave now.”

“It will be alright, Seungmin. You will be recovered before you know it — shall I call for anyone?” His mentor asks.

“Call for Areum, and my husband, please,” Seungmin requests. He thanks his mentor again for their work today, and sighs when the door closes. Of all the times to get injured… Seungmin shakes his head. As much as it was not a good time to be injured, he had to only focus on his recovering, and fast. It would not be ideal to have a battle approaching and have him injured.

He is barely able to mull over these thoughts before there comes a frantic knocking at his door.

“Come in,” He calls, and his husband bursts in, looking worried to death.

“Seungmin!” Jeongin cries, and approaches him with quick steps. “What has happened? I was only told you were injured by one of the servants — are you in pain, my love?”

“Jeongin,” Seungmin says, voice breaking a little. “I – I was sparring and I hurt myself. I am… I am so foolish —“

“Come here,” Jeongin says, so much softer, and he kneels in front of Seungmin, holds his hands. “You are not foolish, my love. Accidents happen, and I know you have tried your most to take care of yourself. It is only unfortunate, and I am sorry that you have to live with this pain.”

“I think I need to rest,” Seungmin murmurs, exhaustion taking over him abruptly. “I am sorry for interrupting your day with this…”

“Let me help you to change, and to bed,” Jeongin says, pressing a gentle kiss to Seungmin’s forehead. “I shall tell the servants not to disturb you, and I will bring your dinner for you when it is night.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin whispers. He lets himself be stripped of his clothes until he is left only in his inner robes, and moves onto his side when Jeongin brings him to his bed.

“Rest well, my love,” Jeongin says, and smooths Seungmin’s hair away from his face. “I will be here when you wake.”

For everything that comes to happen — like Jeongin said, it is all unfortunate timing.

* * *

_They had misjudged how powerful the_ _wokou_ _were. All these past months of there being no attacks had culminated in this one instance of disaster. Their worries and predictions about the_ _wokou_ launching a huge attack nearer the start of winter had come into fruition.

“They are coming to attack Mokpo,” _daejang_ Bang says, voice grave. “We will be able to ride there in half a day if we leave now. Mokpo has enough defences to afford us time until then — we should be able to withstand their attacks.”

“And when they are pushed back, we must launch an attack without rest,” Jeongin continues, brow furrowed with worry. “I fear we do not have enough men to do so.”

“I will ride with you, my lord,” _sojang_ Shin says, stepping up. “We will take half of the men with us, and more from the Palaces will meet us at Mokpo. We have been promised more aid within the next day here so we can regather our troops and press forward with the second attack.”

“I will help with the second attack, and protection while you leave for Mokpo,” _daejang_ Bang says, and he pauses then, glances at Seungmin.

“I am afraid I will not be able to ride with you to Mokpo,” Seungmin says slowly, the words bitter and difficult for him to say. “I have not recovered enough from my injury, and I will only slow you down.”

Jeongin comes to him then, drops to his knees in front of where Seungmin is sitting; the rest of them in the room avert their eyes respectfully from the couple and continue to discuss their plans for leaving to Mokpo.

“I know you are berating yourself,” Jeongin says quietly, “and I agree that the timing is most unfortunate — but you are not at fault for being in pain.”

Seungmin shakes his head. “More than being in pain, I am worried that I will not be there with you,” He says, and his voice shakes a little. “I – I dread to spend days and nights here when you are out there, and I know not of how you are faring. I – I cannot – I _cannot_ lose you.”

“You will not,” Jeongin returns, clutching Seungmin’s hands tightly. “I promise you – I will come home to you.”

The words will still not come out from his mouth, and they remain in his chest, collecting emotion until it almost comes to his eyes. “You must. You _must_ – you have to come home.”

“I will – I will. And… in return, can I ask for a promise from you?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Take care of yourself,” Jeongin says, speaking these words into the back of Seungmin’s hands, prays that the gods will protect everything he loves. “Take care of yourself, and our home. I will be back from Mokpo before you can begin to miss me, and I will be safe.”

“I promise you that I will. Let the gods keep you safe, and that you win,” Seungmin says, and stands up slowly. “I will see you off, my love. I cannot be at rest until you return to my side once again.”

While they had been talking, Suyun had organised the guards to ride with them to Mokpo, and she looks up fiercely at Jeongin when he comes to stand by his horse.

“You must come back alive and well,” Suyun insists, “or I shall never call you as my brother.”

Jeongin only smiles. “I will, Suyun. You are strong enough to protect everyone now, yes? I have faith in you to keep everyone safe.”

Suyun’s eyes water. “Yes, I am. Now — go. Mokpo waits, and the _wokou_ do not. Safe journey, and fair winds.”

It seems as though there is not enough time for them. Jeongin and _sojang_ Shin take half of the guards with them to Mokpo, riding west to try and reach before the evening fell. The fact that it was early winter did not help that light would fade sooner, and the intel coming in was that the _wokou_ were sailing closer and closer and would soon dock at the outer islands of Mokpo and find their way inland.

“At least they meet head-on,” _daejang_ Bang says firmly. “Better to clash than to be on the defensive right from the start.”

As the night falls, the compound does not go to sleep. Everyone is anxious to know of the latest news, and the messengers are constantly dispatched with guards to bring news from Mokpo. It is to be sure that Jeongin and _sojang_ Shin had fended off a good portion of the wokou from where they were fighting at Mokpo, and they were being pushed back from Mokpo with each message that was brought back.

But it was entirely unexpected that a third of the _wokou_ would be diverted to the compounds, to _them_.

The alarms for the intruders had gone off in the dead of the night, and Seungmin had barely been told that the wokou were on their way before a messenger and their guard arrived with half their breath and blood torn from them to say that the wokou had breached the city walls.

“It is an ambush, young master,” The messenger gasped as a nurse tried to get them up onto a bed. “You must — prepare! They are expecting surprise to be their element —“

“Dispatch the first squad,” Suyun orders. “Tell them to meet the wokou at the city walls, and prevent them from coming into the city as best as they can.”

“The second squad, your task is to bring the civilians to safety,” Seungmin adds, standing in front of the guards. “Give support where needed to the first squad. Try to keep the wokou at bay as best as you can.”

Even with these rapid orders, some of the wokou had made it through the city using the side roads, and the compound breaks out into chaos as the first of the wokou barged in through the compound gates. Fights broke out immediately, guards and clan members who had been trained fighting against the wokou; Suyun is trying to persuade Seungmin that he should not go out to fight.

“You are injured,” Suyun says, her brows pinched with worry; Seungmin cannot help but notice how similar the action is to Jeongin. “You could be very badly hurt if you go out now, _oraboni_. There should be no injury or blood where we can avoid it.”

Seungmin shakes his head, stubborn. “I will fight, you cannot stop me. There are too many _wokou_ for how few guards we have on the compounds here, and I will not let them get to those who cannot fight.”

Suyun goes to say something, but then she sighs, shoulders slumping. “I cannot stop you. But — I will have your back at all times, I will accept no compromise. And if you are ever hurting, you must go the back at once and keep in the safe hold with the others.”

Seungmin nods. “I will.”

And he endures. Despite the pain that he feels when he fends off the stabs that the _wokou_ deliver, he grits his teeth and aims for their vitals with his own sword. He goes on and on and on, but it seems like the _wokou_ never end and each one of them are so determined to live. In the midst of the chaos, the guards that were dispatched to help the commoners return, and it becomes easier to push the _wokou_ out.

The damage to the compound is inevitable. There are many injured on their side, but slowly, the wokou either drop at their feet, bleeding with their wounds and dead, or they flee when they see that the tides are turning and they no longer have the upper hand.

They fight through the night, guided only by the lanterns — but this makes their victory all the more sweeter when the first dawn light appears and their compound is silent. No clashing of metal on metal. No screams nor shouts nor battle cries. Only silence and the brightening sunshine that signals that they have won the battle.

When the sun has settled high in the sky and those who fought have been treated for their injuries, more good news arrives from Mokpo.

“They have won the fight in Mokpo,” The messenger says breathlessly. “The wokou have been pushed back and out of Mokpo entirely, and their losses far outweigh ours. They will ride back tomorrow once they have been treated for their injuries.”

It is news that Seungmin has been longing and praying for. He thanks the messenger profusely, tells him to have a rest, and walks back to his rooms, not heeding the pains he feels throughout his body. To be sure, he had aggravated his back once more, and he had minor wounds on his arms and a cut across his cheek, but it is nothing compared to keeping the compound safe.

Heaving a sigh, he sinks down onto his bed and looks out the window into the morning sky.

It is only the morning, and already so much has happened. The _wokou_ had come and attacked, they had responded and defended — and now they have won this battle. There are still questions to answer — why had the _wokou_ attacked now, at the beginning of winter? Why did they choose to attack the compounds, the heart of Jeolla-do, instead of ravaging Mokpo for supplies like they had did during the past years?

But these questions could be answered for another time.

For now, Seungmin closes his eyes, and rests. It has been a long night, and he only wishes for Jeongin to return safely.

Outside, the morning sky is brilliant, and blue. Winter has settled.

* * *

The compounds had been badly damaged, but it was fortunate that most of the city was not ravaged. It had turned out that the _wokou_ had headed directly for the compounds rather than to ravage the city — their thinking was that with the distraction in Mokpo, the compound would be left undefended and once they took down everyone in the compound, the city would fall to their hands.

“It is good you were here,” Jeongin said, exhausted and sitting down on a chair, pressing a piece of fabric to the wound on his arm while the physician started to bind it anew. “God knows what would have happened if no one was here…” He smiles at Suyun and _daejang_ Bang, then turns to his side to press a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek.

“You must tell Seungmin- _oraboni_ to rest,” Suyun says, looking worriedly between Seungmin and Jeongin. “He had fought when the _wokou_ arrived, and I fear he has aggravated his injury.”

“I fought because I wanted to,” Seungmin says, before Jeongin can say anything, “and now that I know the _wokou_ are no longer a threat, I will rest as I have been told to do without fuss.”

“You are stubborn,” Jeongin murmurs, laughing a little through his exhaustion. “Then I must thank all of you for protecting everyone here. You have my greatest thanks, _daejang_ Bang, _sojang_ Shin. Please send our thanks to the _wangseja_ and the _wangsejabin_ , for they have helped us most throughout this time.”

The generals only bow, and then they leave the next day for the Palaces. They had insisted their injuries were only minor and not anything they were already used to, and vowed to bring their word of thanks to the Palaces. They had not expected a reply from the Palaces, but they soon receive correspondence.

_I suspect there were rebels helping the wokou_ , the _wangseja_ writes in this letter, and within it contains another different handwriting.

“The _wangsejabin_ ,” Seungmin offers, as they read the letter together.

_I sincerely hope that I am wrong in that there seems to be a rebellion uprising by some of the officials in our very court, but it seems that I must admit my knowledge of such information. I have also received word that your compounds are much damaged, and the people needing aid. As such, the Palaces will help with the rebuilding of the city and the compounds, and aid would be provided for all who need it. You have our word on this._

“We are doubly blessed,” Seungmin breathes, and when he looks over at his husband, there is only relief and love present between them.

Now, the compounds and the city start to rebuild from the brief but violent battle that had transpired.

And despite all that had happened, the forest that Jeongin had made remained untouched. Perhaps there really were small gods here that protected this land, but it only brings tears to Seungmin’s eyes when he sees that all is still untouched when he can finally walk without pain again.

“Why are you crying, my love?” Jeongin murmurs, coming to stand next to Seungmin, his palms finding their familiar hold on Seungmin’s hips.

“I am… I am just happy that our garden was not ravaged,” Seungmin admits, turning around in Jeongin’s hold. “I would not be able to bear it if it had been damaged during the fights.”

“The garden can be rebuilt, like everything else,” Jeongin says, raising a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind Seungmin’s ear. “It may be devastating, but everything can be built again.”

“But it is _you_ that had built it for me first,” Seungmin says, and the words that he had always wanted to say are now overflowing. “It is you — it is _always_ you. I – I do not know where to start, but it is always you. From when we had met, it is always you.” Slowly, he comes to hold Jeongin’s hands, and then their hands are clasped like it was when they first met, when they got married.

“I know, my flower,” Jeongin says, and his voice is so soft, like he knows the feelings swirling in Seungmin’s chest, heady. “It has always been you for me. I would not have anyone else.” _I only love you._

“I want to be by your side,” Seungmin says, and the words are becoming more and more difficult to pass from his mouth. “I only want to be here, with you.” There is still so much he wants to say.

They are standing under the willow tree that Jeongin had planted for him last winter. A year has passed by, and still they stand here, in the early winter sunshine.

“I am here, my love,” Jeongin whispers, and he both holds and is held. “I will never be parted from you from this day onwards, my flower. I promise you again, doubly on my oath.”

“You are here,” Seungmin repeats, cradling Jeongin’s face in the heat of his palms, almost disbelieving. “You are — home, with me.”

“With you,” Jeongin agrees, and there is desperation in his voice, to know that they are both alive and well and that they _live_. “You — my home, my love.”

Seungmin hears only one word. He parts his lips — he breathes — Jeongin’s eyes are so incredibly bright — and his words fall from his lips like wine.

“I cannot imagine now what it was like to never love you,” Seungmin says, breathless, and it is almost a confession. “I cannot imagine how you were never my home. I – I love you. I could not imagine that I can love you more and more with each passing day, but I do. I love you.”

The light in Jeongin’s eyes only becomes more brilliant; love comes to his mouth in the shape of a smile.

“I love you too,” Jeongin says, and his words are sweet like flowered honey. “And I will continue to love you. Look at our love, my flower. Look at the proof of it — this is the garden that our love has made. This is the garden of us.” His voice is as calming as it was when Seungmin first met him again last winter.

And once again, they meld together. The brilliant winter sunshine casts their shadows onto the grass that is still green; it ripples over the leaves of the willow tree, branches hanging low, and there is no space between these shadows.

They stay like that, for longer than a little while in the garden that they have made. The winter starts again.

* * *

Today, Seungmin wakes alone. He had been expecting this, for Jeongin had told him yesterday that he needed to go with his father and Suyun to see their mother’s grave, and make sure it was not savaged. He is still not used to sharing a bed, but it has been something he had wanted to do for a while coming.

Slowly, he leaves the bed and draws another robe around himself; the winter really is settling in, and the rooms are so very cold in the mornings. He is just thinking of getting up to get dressed and start his day, but a letter on the desk catches his eye.

Curious, he crosses the room and picks the letter up. It is a piece of paper simply folded over, addressed with his name on the back side. The handwriting is familiar.

_I dreamed of you_ , the note starts, and even though the space beside Seungmin has long gone cold, the warmth is collected in the ink of the words. _I dreamed that you were playing the haegeum, and I followed your song by both eye and ear. You did not look up or pause to change the script inscribed with your music; I had done it for you. I hope I will return in time to hear your music today._

Happiness and warmth blooms in his heart in equal measure. Carefully, Seungmin folds the note and places it within the pages of his book, where he has also kept all of Jeongin’s other notes; precious.

That night, Jeongin returns to the sounds of the _haegeum_ — and the sounds of a familiar voice, tinted like honey.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading to the end! it means a lot to me that you have come this far ^^ i hope you enjoyed reading this!! please excuse any typos you see >< i have rushed to post this and it has taken so long to write
> 
> some words you might not have come across before:   
> Yeonan Kim and Beodeul Yang are family clans. Beodeul means willow  
> munban - civil administrators among the nobility  
> seollal - korean new year  
> haegeum - traditional Korean string instrument, resembling a fiddle  
> oraboni - joseon-era honorific used by younger women to address older men, usually a brother  
> wokou - joseon-era pirates  
> bonguk geom - a type of sword in the joseon-era commonly carried by nobility; in this day, it also refers to a type of swordsmanship  
> eolleji - Asian fawnlily  
> Hanseong - joseon-era name for Seoul  
> Jeongja - capital of Jeolla-do  
> Jeolla-do - one of the provinces of the Joseon-era  
> Mokpo - one of the cities in the province of Jeolla-do  
> sagwa-hwachae - apple korean traditional fruit punch  
> boksunga-jeonggwa - candied peach
> 
> the pain that seungmin goes through is just me projecting my chronic pain onto seungmin i apologise oops hehe and i included rocket punch's suyun (she will have a bigger part in a coming fic hehe) and i hope there were no too-big plot holes between this fic and the wangseja fic!! i tried to make jeongmins relationship progression as natural as it could be but it is a little difficult to encompass a whole relationship into only so many words ^^ i still hope you enjoyed it!! 
> 
> i am honestly so tired, but it has been worth it ^^ i hope everyone has good days <3 and i will see you very soon!!!!


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